


Dark as Snow

by Anysia



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gothic, Healing, Horror, Mystery, Poor Life Choices, Psychological Drama, Psychological Horror, Psychological Trauma, Sexual Abuse, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-09 18:23:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 79,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1993134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anysia/pseuds/Anysia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years of isolation and loneliness, Anna sees her whirlwind marriage to the handsome widower Lord Hans Westergard as her long-awaited happily-ever-after. But her troubled relationship with her sister and her growing closeness to a gruff but kindhearted stablehand loom large, and her husband’s darkest secret behind an eternally-locked door threatens to destroy everything Anna holds dear. [AU of 'The Bloody Chamber']</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So for hitting 3,000 followers on Tumblr, I promised my followers I would write them a multi-chaptered Kristanna fic. It, uh, is happening a good while AFTER hitting that mark, and the Kristanna will be of the slow-burn/happening-later variety, but hey, better late than never, right?
> 
> (Please note that this fic will earn its M rating in the very near future. It will contain strong violence, graphic scenes, and some sexual content. Chapters with questionable content will be clearly marked.)
> 
> I haven't written a multi-chaptered fic like this in a long, long time, so I'd dearly love whatever feedback my readers can provide. Enjoy, everyone!

It rained on Anna’s wedding day.

 

This would not have been remarkably auspicious in and of itself, as autumn had long since turned, shocks of color dimmed to muted grays and browns, crisp, cool mornings supplanted by thick fog and cold rain.

 

But the sky was rolling-dark, gale-swept rain lashing at the crooked, repainted shutters of the old house that tragedy and neglect had long since turned into a fragile shell of itself.

 

“Mercy me,” Gerda, Anna’s childhood nursemaid, fretted as she checked the latches on all the windows, frowning at lintels gone spotted with mildew. “Such a poor omen for your beautiful day, dear.”

 

Anna offered Gerda a half-hearted smile over her shoulder as she reached on tiptoe to the top of her closet. “Well,” she said, offering up a noncommittal shrug, “it’s not like it’s never rained during a wedding, after all. At least the ceremony’s inside.”

 

Gerda’s lips tilted into a frown as she cast one wary eye out to the courtyard, the overgrown garden pathway sloshing with rainwater. “I must admit,” she began, scrubbing at a spot on the window with the drab grey sleeve of her housedress, “I’d had my doubts about such a small ceremony. I’d have loved to have seen you married in the garden with a host of family and friends…” Her aged features softened. “…like your mother was.”

 

Anna closed her eyes for a moment as her fingers brushed the edge of the box on the high shelf within her closet. “But she’s not here.”

 

Gerda was quiet. “No, she’s not,” she said, after a long moment.

 

“Is the other one?”

 

Gerda sighed, watching as Anna’s features darkened and she struggled to retrieve the large box, hefting its weight in her arms. “I hardly think it’s fair to refer to your sister as ‘the other one,’ Anna,” she said, chastising.

 

Anna dropped the box to her feet and leaned hard against her closet doorframe. “Is she coming out today?” she asked, voice thick, averting her eyes.

 

“She said she would.”

 

“She’s said that lots of times.”

 

Gerda sighed, reaching out to cup Anna’s cheek with one age-softened hand. “Be kind to her, Anna,” she said softly. “This isn’t easy for her.”

 

A knock sounded from downstairs, and Anna’s eyes shot to the door before she hurried to open the box, eyes narrowed, biting her lip in concentration.

 

“Don’t worry, dear, it won’t be him yet. You’ve plenty of time before you find yourself beside that handsome man of yours.” She patted Anna’s hand before slipping from the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

 

Anna stared at the closed door for a long moment before sighing and awkwardly lifting up the box, letting out a quiet “oof” as she settled it onto her bed and lifted off the top.

 

Even the box was beautifully-made, painted white and inlaid with gold leaf, its contents wrapped in thick paper. Anna reached in with trembling hands and lifted out the gown within it, laying it across her bed. It was a magnificent creation, all pure-white silk and lace, the bodice inlaid with thousands of tiny seed-pearls, detailed to the stitch.

 

It seemed exquisite, far more the raiment of a queen than a poor, lonely girl left alone to the shadows.

 

But then, Anna thought, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as a soft smile pushed at her lips, that’s what fairytale endings were all about.

 

And _oh_ , how she’d suffered for hers.

 

—-

 

_She wondered if it would have been easier if she’d been just a bit younger, too young to remember how things had been Before, if she’d only ever known the ways things were in the After._

 

_But she did remember._

 

_She remembered Sunday horseback rides and lively picnics, Mother’s smile and Father’s hugs, clutching large hands as she laughed joyously and dipped her baby feet into the cool water of the nearby stream, sinking her toes into the thick silt beneath._

 

_And… she remembered Elsa._

 

_Elsa, with her bright eyes and her hair unbound as she rode across the field astride the snow-white pony Father and Mother had given her for her birthday._

 

 

_Elsa, smiling wide and white as she sat at the piano and deftly conjured sweet melodies from the keys._

 

_Elsa, laughing and tickling nimble fingers against her younger sister’s little ribs, grinning as Anna laughed with her._

 

_Elsa, hoisting her up into a piggyback and carrying her around the house as Anna shrieked in delight and spurred her on._

 

_Elsa, letting Anna balance on her shoulders as they sneaked into the kitchen in search of the sweets Gerda knowingly hid far at the top of the cupboard._

 

_Elsa, ecstatically helping her unwrap the new dolls Father would bring home from his trips overseas, brushing their hair together and sharing their outfits, taking them with them to the field and bringing them on all their adventures._

 

_And Elsa…_

 

_Elsa’s eyes growing dimmer._

 

_Elsa retreating into herself, lying motionless in her bed as the days and weeks turned._

 

_Elsa, insisting that nothing was wrong for days at a time._

 

_Elsa, locking her door even as Anna curled up outside it and plaintively called for her to play, to tell her what was wrong._

 

_Elsa, crying as Mother and Father carried her down to the sitting room, exchanging worried glances as a stern-looking physician looked into her eyes, took her pulse, and finally, took her with him._

 

_Anna had been so little then, only scarcely a child, but she’d wailed and thrown herself against Elsa, tried to pull her back and away, to keep her safe, but Mother and Father had gently pulled her back, held her close, stroked her hair as she cried and the front door closed._

 

_“It’ll be all right, Anna,” Mother had said, and Anna didn’t understand why she was crying, too._

 

_“Where is she going?” Anna wept, turning her face in against the shoulder of Mother’s dress, her own shoulders heaving with great, gasping sobs._

 

_Father came to their side, stroked one hand over Anna’s hair. “To a place where…” He looked to the door, eyes tight and pained. “…where maybe they can help her.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Anna’s temple, to Mother’s cheek. “She’ll be back soon, Anna. It’ll be just like before, you’ll see.”_

 

_But the months had turned, verdant summer to brittle fall to deep, bitter winter._

 

_Anna sat with her dolls by the window, halfheartedly attempting to formulate grand stories and adventures alone._

 

_She’d look to Elsa’s doll, clutch it close and weep._

 

—-

 

Anna held the dress close to her small frame, letting it trail and drape along the floor, running her fingers over the exquisite embroidery.

 

Turning to regard herself in the large pier glass, she dropped her head to her shoulder and allowed herself the adoring sigh she’d been holding back all morning.

 

_Short notice, dearest,_ Hans’s note had read when the box had arrived a week earlier, _but I hope you’ll find it to your liking._

 

“Oh Hans,” Anna said coyly to her reflection, settling the dress along her front and offering the mirror a _come-hither_ stare, “you do _so_ spoil me.”

 

Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, Anna fell into her bed, dress and all, laughing deliriously.

 

Mrs. Westergard.

 

_Lady_ Westergard.

 

It seemed almost too much to have wished for. Too good to be true.

 

But, Anna supposed, propping her head up on her hand and smiling at her reflection, perhaps true love always was.

 

Something metallic clinked within the box as her foot kicked against it, and Anna leaned up and pulled it close, frowning as she pushed aside the extraneous packaging. There was the veil he had chosen for her (front piece and all, he’d assured her, in deference to her purity, and a strange warmth shot through her at the thought of her wedding night, of warm fingertips against her skin, of her husband — her _husband_ — holding her close in the night), soft slippers, and…

 

Ah, _there_. Anna’s eyes widened as she lifted out the ornate ruby necklace from within the box, a wide, twisting band of white gold inlaid with dozens of glittering, faceted stones that caught the light like deep red wine as she tilted the necklace in her hand.

 

There was a note with it, written on thick parchment in a familiar copperplate hand.

 

_Soon, love_ , it read, and Anna felt her heart flutter as she set the note down and fastened the necklace around her pale throat.

 

“Is that from him?” a soft voice said from behind her, and Anna turned too quickly, wincing at the bite of the stones against her skin.

 

Elsa stood in the doorway, hair neatly braided, clad in a freshly-laundered and pressed dove-grey gown.

 

“…yeah,” Anna said, fiddling with the clasp and averting her eyes.

 

Elsa frowned a little, gently shutting the door behind her and observing the necklace with a critical eye. “…it looks like a wound,” she said. “I don’t like it.”

 

Anna narrowed her eyes, fingers stilling on the clasp. “Well it’s a good thing you don’t have to,” she said, fetching her dress from her bed and turning to her vanity, ignoring the tell-tale push of tears at the corners of her eyes.

 

_If you’re going to do this,_ she thought, forcing down the growing lump in her throat, _then just stay in your room. Like you always do._

 

Elsa was quiet, glancing to the dress Anna held in her hands. “That’s lovely, though.”

 

“…thanks.”

 

Anna’s eyes briefly met her sister’s in the mirror of the vanity, and Anna quickly looked away and began to dress.

 

She couldn’t bear to see Elsa’s eyes now any more than she could then.

 

—-

 

_Elsa returned home on the first day of spring, the ground still wrapped in a thick blanket of snow._

 

_Mother and Father had sent Anna upstairs, told her to keep to her room, but not before she gasped at the sight of her sister, her skin pale and washed, eyes wide and terrified, hair disheveled around her shoulders._

 

_Anna watched, horrified, peering through the balustrade as Mother and Father spoke to the physician in hushed tones._

 

_“Mild success,” the physician said on a sigh, glancing to Elsa. “But the girl’s still exhibiting strong symptoms of instability. Distant. Withdrawn. Unsociable.”_

 

_“Did you try…” Mother began, clutching at the cameo at her pale throat._

 

_“Everything we have. Fresh air, water immersion… we even attempted a new method with electricity with which we’ve had some success in other patients.”_

 

_Mother clasped a hand to her mouth, her other hand clenching tight around Father’s forearm._

 

_“Perfectly safe, I assure you,” the physician said. “But… little in the way of success. I’m afraid the child may just be of ill temperament.”_

 

_“There’s nothing else you can do?” Father asked, a hint of desperation seeping into his voice._

 

_The doctor sighed, pressing two fingers to his temple. “We can continue treatment and hope that repeated sessions may have a positive effect on the girl,” he said finally, “but… the cost would be… prohibitive for most.”_

 

_Father and Mother exchanged pained glances, and Father folded his large hand over Mother’s small one. “We’ve discussed that,” Father said quietly. “We’re prepared to do whatever it takes.”_

 

_The doctor grunted, retrieving a thick file from his bag. “Well then,” he began, slipping on a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles from his coat pocket, “I suppose we’d best determine a treatment schedule. Now, I understand that you’d like to avoid any further lengthy stays, so it’s imperative that the child be given treatments at least three times a week, with…”_

 

_The doctor’s voice faded to a low hum in Anna’s ears as she continued staring, down to her parents’ worried, pained faces, to Elsa’s hunched form as she sat in the too-large arm chair, her arms limp at her side._

 

_Anna’s breath caught as Elsa tilted her head up to catch her glance, and Anna started to turn away, to run back to her room before she could be caught… but Elsa’s eyes were devoid of the youthful playfulness and mischief she had so fondly remembered. Now their blue depths were blank. Flat. Dead._

 

_It was as though the ghost of her sister was staring back at her from within them._

 

_Her breath catching tight in her throat, Anna ran._

 

_But she could only run as far as her room, with Elsa’s forever silent across the way._

 

_Father and Mother came to see her soon after, as she huddled beneath the blankets on her bed, Elsa’s doll firmly tucked into the crook of one small arm._

 

_“It’ll be better now,” Mother had said soothingly, stroking Anna’s hair. “It’ll be just like it was.”_

 

_Anna had peeked out from the blankets with doll in hand, her eyes wide with childish hope, and she offered her parents the barest hint of a smile._

 

_A smile that faded as Elsa once more returned to her room, shutting the door tightly behind her._

 

_As Mother and Father’s pleading, desperate requests for her to come down to dinner faded into silence, and Gerda began to carry serving trays upstairs at mealtimes._

 

_As Elsa disappeared with the doctor every few months, returning quiet and withdrawn, jumping at the spark of electric lights on the rare occasions she attended meals, trembling in fear at the rush of the stream on the still rarer occasions she went outdoors._

 

 

_As the house began to grow slovenly with neglect, dusty and worn and faded, Father selling off art and antiques and furniture and handing ever-growing sums to the doctor and the associates he began to bring with him._

 

_And so it went, as the years went by, as the house fell to ruin around them and Elsa grew ever more distant._

 

_Anna had long since ceased to wait by her bedroom door and attempt to coax her out._

 

_Elsa’s doll had long since been relegated to the costume chest the girls had shared in their youth, Anna’s fondest memories with her sister as dusty and forgotten as the old dresses of Mother’s they’d carelessly donned and discarded._

 

_Anna would find brief moments of respite curled up on the chaise in the library, thumbing through the thick volumes Father had procured in his travels (when he still had them, when they were happy, when things had been different). All around her, her childhood home began to collapse, dust and cobwebs creeping in, her parents growing weak and tired, her sister a distant, isolated memory… but in her books, fair maidens danced in the arms of dashing princes, hardship and fortitude were rewarded by granted wishes and happily-ever-afters, and true love always, always found a way._

 

_Anna would lie back, eyes starry and soft as she stared at the water-stained ceiling and dreamed, in the way only young girls can, of a dashing prince, of true love, of a beautiful life far away from here._

 

_It worked._

 

_For awhile._

 

_Until the day a message arrived from the doctor about new treatments at the facility that might at long last help heal Elsa’s frailty._

 

 

_The day they left to meet with him._

 

_The day Anna had hugged them, waved to them as their carriage disappeared down the path._

 

_The last day she ever saw them._

 

**_Highwaymen,_ ** _the voices murmured around her days later, as she felt the rush of burning tears against her cheeks beneath her dark veil. **Such a tragedy. And with such young daughters, too.**_

 

_She’d slept outside Elsa’s door for three nights, crying into her skirts, begging her to talk to her, to say something. Anything._

 

_Silence. As always._

 

_On the fourth night, Anna stood, straightened her skirts, turned to look at Elsa’s door._

 

_She pressed her fingertips to her lips and ghosted them over the scarred wooden panel._

 

_When she returned to her room, her eyes were dry._

 

—-

 

“You’re going to need help getting into that.”

 

Anna pointedly ignored Elsa’s words as she attempted to reach behind and tie the stays of her corset, grunting as she pulled and twisted. “I’ve got it.”

 

Elsa frowned, brows tilted up in concern. “You don’t look like you’ve got it.”

 

“I’ve _got_ it,” Anna ground out between clenched teeth.

 

When Elsa’s hands wrapped into the stays and began to deftly tie them together, Anna slumped her shoulders in defeat. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

 

Elsa said nothing until the last of the stays had been secured. “Now for the dress,” she said, beginning to undo the buttons at the back.

 

Anna crossed her arms over the front of her corset self-consciously. “…thanks,” she repeated in a quiet voice.

 

Elsa’s attention remained focused on the buttons. “It’s nothing,” she said softly. “Just a dress.”

 

“No, I mean…” Anna took a deep breath and forced herself to look at her sister. “Thank you. For… for letting me. Do this.”

 

Elsa slowly looked to Anna, and Anna felt a cold shudder down her spine at the familiar emptiness within her eyes.

 

“You gave me very little choice, Anna,” Elsa said.  

 

—-

 

_Anna’s eighteenth birthday had passed with very little fanfare._

 

_There was no one left to celebrate it with her, after all._

 

_Gerda had baked her a small spicecake and given her a pat on the cheek and a kind word, but her touch reminded Anna too much of Mother’s, and she’d spent much of the afternoon curled by the fire in the library, staring into the flames with eyes gone gritty and hot._

 

_Gerda had found her there as the pink-gold rays of sunset washed over the house, the only spot of color to be found of late. The house itself seemed to leach color from everything within it, leaving what remained of the art, furniture, and people within its walls washed and grey, brittle with the memories of what had been._

 

_“It’s a nice night, dear,” Gerda had observed, setting her hands on the chaise._

 

_Anna wrapped her arms more tightly around her knees and said nothing._

 

_“Might be good for you to take a bit of a stroll. Get some fresh air. Maybe go into town.”_

 

_“…I guess,” Anna mumbled, turning her face in against her knees._

 

_“Better for you than sitting here in the library, at any rate.” Gerda patted her lightly on the back. “You’ll be all right, dear. Make the most of it.”_

 

_Anna rose slowly to her feet. “She didn’t come out, did she,” she asked, dusting off the front of her dress, not meeting Gerda’s eyes._

 

_“…no,” Gerda said, very quietly._

 

_“She didn’t say anything, did she.”_

 

_“…no, dear. She didn’t.”_

 

_Anna offered her a tight-lipped smile. “Well then,” she said, “no use waiting around here, then, is there.” She stepped around Gerda and retrieved her cloak from the coatrack by the doorway. “I’ll be back in an hour or two. Just… want to enjoy my birthday.”_

 

_She’d managed to make it out the front door, down the pathway, and out of sight of the house before she let her shoulders fall._

 

_It wasn’t that it was surprising…_

 

_But still…_

 

_Still she’d hoped that maybe, just maybe, **this** time…_

 

_Anna’s thoughts came to a sudden halt as something large and heavy plowed into her side, and she shrieked as she tumbled headlong into an overgrown patch of azaleas along the road._

 

_“Hey!” she sputtered, arms tangled in foliage, attempting to dislodge herself._

 

_“I’m so sorry,” an elegant, apologetic voice said, gloved hands reaching in to extract her from the bush. “Are you hurt?”_

 

_Anna coughed, spitting a mouthful of leaves to one side, jaw falling open as she regarded the handsome and well-dressed young man before her, all expertly-tailored clothes and regal bearing._

 

_“…I…” Anna managed, staring openly at him._

 

_The man raised his eyebrows._

 

_“…I’m fine,” Anna finished, a shy smile spreading across her lips. “I’m… really fine, actually.”_

 

_“Are you sure?” the man asked skeptically, glancing down at the grass stains along the front of her dress._

 

_“Yeah. Uh. Nothing broken.” She performed a clumsy little twirl, glancing over her shoulder to him. “See? Perfect.”_

 

_The man smiled at her. “Close to it, anyway,” he said, eyes warm and soft as they studied her. He bowed low at the waist. “Lord Hans Westergard, at your service.”_

 

_Anna’s eyes widened. “Lord Hans Westergard?”_

 

_Hans glanced up at her, crooking a charming smile. “You’ve heard of me, then.”_

 

_“Well, uh… I mean… of your family.” Anna surreptitiously straightened her skirts and attempted to stand a little taller. “You, uh… have that big estate up in the mountains, right?”_

 

_“My family’s holdings are far-reaching. But yes, ‘that big mountain estate’ is mine.”_

 

_“Must be nice,” Anna said. “Having… all that space. And stuff.”_

 

_“The ‘stuff’ is quite nice, I’ll admit.”_

 

_Hans smiled at her, open and warm, and Anna allowed herself to return it._

 

_“So…” Anna began awkwardly, clasping her hands behind her back and rocking on her heels. “What brings you down here?”_

 

_Hans glanced down the path. “There’s a rarely-performed opera I’m keen to see that’s being offered tonight in town.” He reached back and patted his horse on its broad neck. “Sitron and I were on our way there when we encountered a small… roadblock.”_

 

_“Oh. Uh. Sorry.” Anna grinned sheepishly._

 

_“Our pleasure, I assure you. And what brings you out this evening, Miss…?”_

 

_“Anna. Anna Arendelle. It, uh…” She shrugged and leaned back on the balls of her feet. “Well, I mean… it’s my birthday. But it wasn’t…” She sighed, shoulders falling. “It wasn’t exactly the best one. So I decided to go for a walk. Just get some fresh air.”_

 

_“Ah,” Hans said, running his gloved fingers over his horse’s saddle. “Would you like some music with your air?”_

 

_Anna’s head shot up, eyes wide. “What?”_

 

_“You heard me.”_

 

_Anna stared at him for a long moment, scanning her eyes down the crisp lines of his suit before glancing to her own well-worn skirts. “I, uh…” She bit her lip, cheeks flushing crimson in embarrassment. “I’m not… really dressed for…”_

 

_“We’ll be in my private box. No one’ll be the wiser. They’d have to question me for it, anyway.” Hans raised an eyebrow. “Well?”_

 

_Anna bit her lip, glancing back down the path to where… where…_

 

_No one would be waiting for her._

 

_And, she was beginning to think, never would be._

 

_Anna took a deep breath. “Okay,” she began, taking a step forward, “why no…”_

 

_She let out a short cry as her ankle turned slightly, and she struck her arms out for balance attempting to regain some semblance of dignity…_

 

_A pair of gloved hands settled along her hips, righting her._

 

_“Glad I caught you,” Hans said, smiling at her._

 

_Anna couldn’t help but smile back._

 

—-

 

“Do you have a veil?”

 

Anna glanced to Elsa over her shoulder, inclining her head towards the box on the bed. “Yeah. Over there.”

 

Elsa nodded and moved to retrieve it, smoothing out the sheets of organza and observing it with a critical eye.

 

“Lovely,” she said quietly.

 

“He really does love me, Elsa,” Anna said, very softly. “He’ll be a good provider. You don’t have to worry so much.”

 

Elsa was quiet. “So many lovely things for such a hasty ceremony,” she said after a moment, setting down the veil and hoisting Anna’s dress in her arms.

 

Anna’s eyes narrowed as she met Elsa’s gaze in the mirror, mouth opening to speak.

 

“All right, arms up.”

 

Her protests died on her lips at Elsa’s soft command, and Anna silently held up her arms as Elsa carefully pulled the sleeves onto them before settling the dress over her head, smoothing down its voluminous skirts.

 

“It really is very nice,” Elsa said quietly, running her fingers over soft lace and silk.

 

“It’s from Paris.”

 

“Oh?” Elsa raised an eyebrow as she moved to stand behind Anna, small, deft fingers working to close the first of the long line of buttons down the back.

 

“Yeah.” Anna kept her eyes steadfastly ahead, clutching her hands to the front of her dress. “Hans… wanted me to have something beautiful, even given the… the circumstances.”

 

Elsa paused momentarily. “The circumstances,” she repeated, slotting the button between her fingers through its hole. “I see. I suppose a fancy dress is the least he could do.”

 

“Elsa,” Anna said sharply, turning her head. “Don’t.”

 

Elsa finished the last of the buttons in silence.

 

—-

 

_It was, she would reflect even in her later years, the grandest night of her life._

 

_Although it didn’t quite start out that way._

 

_Anna had clung to Hans as they rode into town, gasps and hushed voices rising around them as the townspeople took in the visiting nobleman… and the young woman beside him._

 

_Judging eyes and whispered voices had followed her as they entered the theater, and Anna had hunched down, cheeks burning at her plain dress, at her utter **ordinary-ness** , wishing nothing more than to blend into the shadows… but Hans’s arm had been warm and anchoring around her waist, introducing her to the multitudes who greeted him as his “very special guest”. _

 

_“It’s all right,” Hans had said, taking her hand and smiling down at her. “They’re harmless. Just clamoring to be seen, you understand.”_

 

_His hands were warm against her, even through his gloves, and Anna felt her heart flutter pleasantly as she returned his smile._

 

_It was one plump woman, clad in too-tight aubergine silk, diamonds glittering at her throat, painted and unpleasant, who cast a critical eye over Anna and threatened to tear the evening asunder,_

 

_“A bit young, isn’t she, my lord?” the woman had asked, dangling her opera glasses off one manicured hand._

 

_Hans had offered her a slow, easy smile. “Age is but a number, countess. You’ve spent some time rounding yours down considerably, I understand.”_

 

_The woman frowned darkly at him. “You’ll forgive my curiosity, my lord. This is the first we’ve seen of you with… **company** since Christabel.” _

 

_Anna felt Hans stiffen beside her at the unfamiliar name, and she gazed up at him with curious eyes._

 

_“How many months now, my lord?” the woman asked._

 

_“Six,” Hans responded flatly._

 

_“Still mourning, then.”_

 

_“Always and forever, countess. But a man does move on.”_

 

_“Yes, I suppose a man does.” The countess offered him a venomous smile before glancing to Anna. “Lovely meeting you, dear.”_

 

_“You didn’t even ask my name,” Anna said._

 

_“Hardly makes much difference, does it?” the countess asked airily. “Enjoy the show, dear.” Her diamonds caught the lamplight in a dazzling flash as she turned and made her way towards the private boxes._

 

_Anna started as Hans’s hand came tightly around hers, and her brow furrowed in concern at the threaded tension that seemed to shoot through him. “My lord?”_

 

_There was something dark in his eyes as he stared at her, and Anna felt a small gasp rise up at the back of her throat. “I… uh… maybe we shouldn’t…” she stammered, pulling her hand away from his, “…I mean… maybe **I** shouldn’t…” She glanced worriedly towards the doors as the ushers began to pull them closed for the performance. _

 

_“Anna, wait,” Hans said, grasping her wrist, and Anna yelped at the sharpness of it. “My apologies,” Hans said, smoothing his fingers over her skin. “It’s… a long story.”_

 

_“My lord,” one of the ushers came up beside them, bowing slightly, “I’ll need you to take your seats. The show will be starting shortly.”_

 

_Hans glanced to the usher and canted his head away from them. The man bowed again and silently moved back towards the doors, murmuring apologies._

 

_“She was my wife,” Hans said quietly._

 

_“Was?”_

 

_“Was.” Hans closed his eyes, a flash of pain striking across his aristocratic features. “We went boating this past spring. Our one-year anniversary.” He opened his eyes, and they shone with tears as they met Anna’s. “A storm rose up. Capsized us. I can swim.” He took a deep breath. “She couldn’t.”_

 

_Anna brought her hands to her mouth, eyes wide._

 

_“Made it back to land,” Hans continued, voice distant. “Set back out immediately with a few trusted hands. But we never found her.”_

 

_Anna was quiet. “…I’m so sorry,” she said finally, eyes soft. She reached out to take Hans’s hand, and he gratefully clasped it in his. “…my parents died three years ago,” she said quietly. “My sister is… unwell, and they were on a trip and they…” She bit hard on her lip against the sudden sting of tears at her eyes._

 

_Hans gently squeezed her hand. “You know,” he said quietly, “I’m not much in the mood for opera anymore.”_

 

_“Yeah,” Anna said with a humorless laugh, wiping her fingers over the corner of one eye. “No kidding.”_

 

_“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to go for a walk with me instead?”_

 

_Anna stared up at him, self-consciously smoothing one hand along her skirts. “You mean it?”_

 

_“Of course.” He brought one gloved hand up to settle gently against her cheek. “Time with you, I’m learning,” he said quietly, “is always time well spent.”_

 

_Anna allowed herself the warm, grateful smile she felt pushing at the corners of her lips and raised her hand to cover his._

 

_Hans gestured to the ushers with his free hand, and they moved to open the doors. He crooked his arm, and Anna took it gratefully, smiling up at him, open and guileless._

 

_And so they walked, and talked, long into the night. There was something so very **genuine** about Hans, Anna thought, as they strolled through the public gardens hand in hand. He spoke to her of his family, of the pain of being the youngest of thirteen sons in a noble family, of the loss of his wife and how his heart had finally at long last begun to mend, and she spoke to him of her own pain at having a once-beloved sister grow distant and cold._

 

_“Is she all that’s left of your family, then?” Hans asked as they sat side by side on a stone bench in the park, the moon full and beautiful above them, Anna’s head on his shoulder._

 

_“Yeah. It’s just me and Elsa, and our nursemaid, Gerda.” Anna sighed and frowned a little to herself. “And the thing is… we were always so close. We did everything together. Until one day, when she just started… shutting everyone out.”_

 

_Anna’s eyes went wide as she felt the faintest brush of Hans’s lips against the crown of her head._

 

_“I would never shut you out,” he murmured softly._

 

_Anna opened her mouth to speak, but words seemed to fail her in the face of the rapid beating of her heart, the deep crimson flush rising to her cheeks. “…thank you,” she said finally, tightening her hand around his. “I… I’ve never met anyone like you, Lord Westergard.”_

 

_He smiled at her, eyes bright and humorous. “Just Hans.”_

 

_Anna smiled bashfully, staring up at him through her eyelashes. “Okay… Hans.”_

 

_He stared at her for a long moment before standing, pulling her to her feet with him, their bodies only inches apart. “…I’ve never felt like this with anyone,” Hans said quietly, running his thumbs over the backs of her hands. “Anna.”_

 

_“Even with… with her?” Anna asked breathlessly._

 

_“Even with her.”_

 

_Anna gazed into Hans’s eyes, the moonlight bright and full around them, the air thick with the twining scents of night-blooming jasmine and moonflower, and her heart beat fit to burst from her chest as she thought to all those lonely nights curled up in a dusty library with her storybooks, of handsome princes and happily-ever-afters, of something warm and bright and beautiful, and she ached with want._

 

_“Is…” Anna began, biting her lip. “Is this true love?”_

 

_As soon as she’d uttered the words, she felt foolish, like a lovesick little girl in the arms of a handsome, humoring man, and she flushed, attempted to pull away…_

 

_But Hans held her fast, one hand coming up to cup her chin and tilt her face towards his. “I think,” he murmured, ducking his head down, “it’s whatever we want it to be.”_

 

_Anna’s eyes widened as he very gently pressed his lips to hers, pulling back just far enough to allow her to respond, and she closed her eyes, tears pricking at the corners as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him harder._

 

_So this was love._

 

_It was, she thought, everything she’d ever wanted._

 

_Everything she’d never dared hope for._

 

_“Marry me,” Hans whispered against her lips, a plea and a promise all at once._

 

_Anna inhaled on a deep, shuddering breath._

 

_“Yes,” she said._

 

_—-_

 

“Ow!”

 

Elsa winced apologetically as the brush pulled through Anna’s hair. “Sorry,” she said quietly. “You have a lot of snags.”

 

Anna grimaced and folded her arms over her chest. “Well you could be more gentle,” she grumbled.

 

Elsa was silent as she continued brushing through Anna’s hair, pulling the brush through until her auburn waves settled glossy and sleek over her shoulders.

 

“There,” Elsa said, setting the brush down on the vanity. She glanced to the small bowl of fresh flowers beside it. “Would you like flowers in your hair?” She hesitated. “It might… take a little longer.”

 

Anna bit her lip, glancing down at her hands. “I… guess that might be nice.”

 

Elsa nodded and reached around to retrieve the bowl, running her fingers through Anna’s hair and carefully threading the first of the blossoms through it.

 

It was, Anna thought, attempting to ignore the growing lump in her throat, the first thing they’d done together in ages.

 

“You don’t have to do all this, you know,” Anna said, very softly.

 

Elsa glanced to her in the mirror before reaching for another flower. “I know,” she said.

 

“Does…” Anna swallowed. “Does this mean that… you approve now? Even just a little?”

 

Elsa was quiet for a long moment, carefully threading stems and blossoms together, soft whites and pinks contrasting with the rich red of Anna’s hair.

 

“No.”

 

—-

 

_“You can’t!” Anna shrieked, tearing her hand from Hans’s and tugging her sister back to face her._

 

_Elsa’s eyes were cold and hard, glancing from Anna to Hans. “No, **you** can’t marry a man you just met **tonight** ,” she said, voice flat and brooking no argument. _

 

_“My lady,” Hans said, coming to Anna’s side and bowing respectfully to Elsa, “if I may ease your worries…”_

 

_“No,” Elsa said, the word a sharp whipcrack through the air. “I think you should go. Anna, we’ll discuss this later.”_

 

_“No,” Anna seethed, eyes narrowed, hands balled into fists at her sides. “We’ll discuss this **now**.” _

 

_“There’s nothing to discuss. I said no.”_

 

_Hans kept his eyes on Elsa as he brushed his lips over Anna’s temple. “Perhaps I’d best leave you to this,” he murmured. “I’ll send for you in a few days, dear one.”_

 

 

_“You’ll send for nothing,” Elsa said sharply._

 

_“Elsa, **stop**!” Anna cried. Her eyes were wide and pained as Hans closed the front door behind him, and in that instant she saw all her hopes and dreams, every chance for love, for the end of her years of loneliness dissipating like fine mist. _

 

_The sitting room was silent for a long, long moment._

 

_“Go to bed, Anna,” Elsa said finally, voice weary as she made for the stairs._

 

_“…I **hate** you,” Anna said very softly, trembling with rage. _

 

_Elsa stilled, eyes wide as she glanced back to her younger sister. “What?”_

 

_Anna dug her fingernails into her palms, willing the rage rising up in her chest to calm enough that she could finally tell Elsa what she had done to her, the damage her total abandonment had caused, how she finally, **finally** had a chance to be loved, to be cared for, to not be completely **alone…**_

 

_The words died in her throat, in the first slip of a tear down her cheek, and she bit down hard on her fist and tore past Elsa, up the stairs, to her room._

 

_“And thanks for finally coming out for my **birthday**!” Anna shouted on a broken sob, slamming the door behind her and sliding down to the floor, dropping her head to her knees and allowing the first of an endless line of sobs to tear from her throat. _

 

_For the next three days and three nights, she didn’t move._

 

_She didn’t cry._

 

_She didn’t speak._

 

_She only stared, blank-eyed and broken, into the middle distance, watching her dreams crumble to dust in front of her on an endless loop._

 

_She heard Gerda’s voice, soft and concerned on the other side of the door once or twice, but the nursemaid was well-accustomed to the daughters in her care being withdrawn and distant, and stopped trying after little effort._

 

_It was the other sounds that stabbed into her._

 

_Soft, quiet knocks in the middle of the night._

 

_Her name on a pained, pleading whisper._

 

**_Hurts, doesn’t it,_ ** _Anna thought malevolently towards the presence on the other side of the door, not even bothering to wipe away her tears._

 

_So it went._

 

_Until the fourth night._

 

_A slightly more forceful knock._

 

_A slightly louder whisper._

 

_And then…_

 

_“…I give you my blessing.”_

 

_Anna raised her head from her knees, eyes stiff with tears, and quickly scrambled to her feet, flinging open the door…_

 

_Just in time to see Elsa’s door close, hear the tell-tale metallic clunk of her lock sliding into place._

 

_“Anna!” Gerda called as she came up the stairs. “We’ve been so worried about you, dear. Now, your sister’s already sent word to Lord Westergard that she’s approved your marriage — he’ll be here on the morrow. A small ceremony, he’s said, in deference to… to his mourning period, but he’s assured us he’ll provide for everything.”_

 

_“But…” Anna glanced to Elsa’s door, heart twisting painfully in her chest. “But… she was… she…”_

 

_The door remained closed and silent, and Anna’s shoulders fell._

 

_Gerda’s hand came to her shoulder, warm and comforting. “He **did** ask how soon you’d like to have the ceremony, dear,” Gerda said, a question in her voice._

 

_Anna took a deep breath, closing her eyes._

 

_“As soon as possible,” she said._

 

_—-_

 

Elsa was silent as she finished threading the last of the flowers through Anna’s hair.

 

“Just one more piece,” she said softly, reaching down to retrieve the veil. The mother-of-pearl combs flashed in the light as Elsa slid them into her hair, arranging the veil over Anna’s tightly-drawn features. “Anna?” she said, voice soft with concern. “Are you all right?”

 

Anna said nothing, glancing down at her hands. There was nothing to say. There was everything to say.

 

“…thank you,” she said finally, allowing her tears to fall behind the safety of her veil. “I know you don’t… I know that you don’t like him…”

 

Elsa sighed. “It’s not him, Anna. It’s… the whole situation.”

 

“I love him,” Anna said, voice short and sharp as she pushed away from the vanity and stood. “That’s all that matters.”

 

Elsa was silent as she observed her younger sister, resplendent in her wedding gown, the rubies at her throat flashing bright and red like an open wound.

 

“I hope it is,” Elsa said quietly.

 

—-

 

The sitting room had been decorated beautifully with the funds Hans had provided, furniture pushed aside, the walls festooned with thick flower garlands, sweetly perfuming the air.

 

Anna grinned fit to bursting as the minister placed her hand in Hans’s, eyes soft and shining with tears as Hans pulled back her veil and kissed his new bride for the first time.

 

She tried to ignore the black mourning bands sewed into his suit, the black rose in his lapel, and what they meant.

 

She caught Elsa’s eye once or twice during the ceremony, but her sister was familiarly distant and unreadable, her hands folded primly at the front of her grey gown, eyes dry and emotionless even as Gerda wept loudly into her handkerchief.

 

The reception, Hans had decided, would be held at his estate high in the mountains.

 

Gerda’s age and Elsa’s frail health prohibited them from attending, Gerda had offered in apology.

 

And so Anna found herself beside a beautifully-ornate carriage, the rain still lashing cold and heavy around them, gazing up at her childhood home for the last time.

 

“Your sister sends her love,” Gerda said, drawing Anna into a hug, one hand clutching a battered umbrella over her. “But it’s… it’s all been a bit much for the poor dear.”

 

Anna nodded, pressing her head tight to Gerda’s shoulder.

 

It shouldn’t have been a surprise that Elsa would fail to see her off.

 

It shouldn’t have hurt.

 

“Ready when you are, love,” Hans said to her, hand coming round her elbow. He bowed low at the waist to Gerda. “My deepest thanks for your hospitality, ma’am.”

 

Gerda smiled and patted Hans’s cheek. “You just take good care of her now, young man.”

 

Hans smiled at her, all perfect white teeth. “That,” he said, wrapping an arm tightly around Anna’s waist, “I can promise.” He leaned down to press a quick kiss to Anna’s temple. “Ready, Anna?”

 

Anna stared up at Elsa’s window, through the rain, through the dust that years of neglect had painted over it.

 

She thought she saw a pale flash behind it, but as soon as it had appeared, it was gone.

 

“…I’m ready,” Anna said finally, drawing her traveling cloak more tightly around her shoulders.

 

Hans helped her into the carriage, her hand tightly clasped in his. Gerda waved to them even as the wheels began to turn, as they made their way over the thick cobblestones running fast with mud and rainwater.

 

“Anna,” Hans said softly, running one hand through her hair, “it will be my greatest privilege to teach you how to be a proper wife.”

 

Something cold and uneasy snaked down Anna’s spine at his words, but she pushed them aside and curled up against his side, eyes closed as she basked in the nearness, the warmth of her husband.

 

She didn’t look back.

 

—-

 

High in the mountains, the cold rain that fell in the valley had begun to turn to thick sheets of sleet and snow, and a broad-set man stared off to the distance, to the still-darkening clouds gathering over the snowcapped peaks as he stood in the doorway of a large, well-appointed stable.

 

“Lord Westergard will be home soon,” a stablehand called from behind him. “Best get things ready for his return. Be interesting to finally catch a glimpse of the new one.” The stablehand frowned, eyeing the man’s still posture, the arms folded tightly over his chest. “Kristoff? Are you listening?”

 

The man turned back to him, eyed him levelly.

 

“Storm’s coming,” he said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this one was an emotional rollercoaster to write. Hans’s character in particular is very, very draining, considering he’s something of a synthesis between his canon character and the marquis in The Bloody Chamber. Kind of an interesting challenge. A very, very creepy one.
> 
> So there’s that. But on the plus side… Kristoff’s home! …in the chapter. You know.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy. :)
> 
> (PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SOME QUESTIONABLE SEXUAL CONTENT.)

It was several hours’ carriage ride to the train station — it would almost certainly have been a shorter journey in clearer weather, but the rain continued in thick, heavy sheets, rumbles of thunder rolling in off the horizon.

 

Anna pressed her face to the window and stared out at the bustle of the station, of porters hauling baggage with rain spattering over their hunched backs, of dainty women pressed and polished as they stood beneath umbrellas held by well-dressed gentlemen.

 

“Will it take long to get to your estate?” Anna asked, turning back to glance at Hans.

 

“Mm,” Hans said noncommittally, running his gloved fingers over the upholstery of the seat. “Not too long. Just a few hours. We’ll probably arrive around midnight or so. My servants will meet us at the estate’s private station and escort us home.”

 

_Home._ The word seemed to linger in the air between them, heavy with meaning, with promise.

 

The Westergard Estate.

 

Her new home.

 

Where she would be his wife, the lady of the manor.

 

Anna frowned and sat up just a little straighter at the thought.

 

“Your things will likely arrive ahead of us,” Hans continued. “The maids should have you set up in our bedchamber by the time we arrive.”

 

_Our bedchamber_. Anna flushed down to her neck, a thin line of white bordering the ruby choker around her pale throat. She’d nearly forgotten, in the whirlwind of her marriage, of the… _duties_ she would be expected to perform for her husband.

 

The thought was somehow pleasant and frightening all at once.

 

“…oh,” Anna managed, swallowing hard and folding her hands together. “Right. Our… our room. We’ll have a room. Together. Us. You and… and me. Because we’re married. And that’s what… married people do. When they’re…”

 

Hans raised an eyebrow at her, and she fell silent, biting her lip.

 

The door on Hans’s side of the carriage opened, and an umbrella-wielding porter tipped his hat in deference as Hans straightened his lapels and slid out, offering Anna his hand. “Watch your step, now,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you to fall and hurt yourself, now would we?” He smiled, red and charming, as she slid her hand into his.

 

“If you please, Lord Westergard, I’ll escort you,” the porter said, holding his umbrella over Anna’s head.

 

“Presently, my good man,” Hans said nonchalantly, flicking the man a gold coin between thumb and forefinger. “I’d like to have my new bride settled safely into her stateroom before we depart for the mountains.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Hans crooked his elbow, and Anna threaded her arm with his, eyeing him curiously. “My stateroom?” she asked, brow furrowed in confusion. “Is… yours separate?”

 

“It is,” Hans said, looking straight ahead. 

 

“But… I thought… we would…” She flushed again, averting her eyes.

 

Hans barely glanced to her. “We will,” he said lightly. “But properly. Safely in our marriage bed.” He leaned closer, ghosted his lips over her temple. “You’ll remain pure until I tell you otherwise,” he murmured.

 

Anna stared at him, wide-eyed. “What do you…”

 

Hans frowned, clutching her just a fraction closer as they made their way down the platform. “The first rule to being a good wife, Anna,” he said, voice low at her ear, “is that you are to be submissive, and deferential. You do not question.”

 

“But I…”

 

“Or protest.”

 

Hans stared at her for a long moment, eyes narrowed and burning-dark until Anna finally averted her own, keeping them firmly trained on the tips of her shoes as they continued to walk beside the train.  

 

“Here we are, sir,” the porter said, stopping at the end of the nearest car.  

 

Hans nodded, starting up the stairs and glancing back to Anna. “Well?” he asked.

 

“Are our rooms in this car?” Anna asked, wrapping her arms around herself and eyeing the gilded trappings, the polished windows.

 

“This is my private car,” Hans said simply. “I travel for business relatively often.”

 

“Oh,” Anna said softly, reaching up to take his hand. “I didn’t know.”

 

She kept her head down as Hans opened the door to the car and led her in, but couldn’t help but glance around at the ornate furnishings of the car, its broad expanse. “I guess there would be two different rooms in here,” Anna said, raising her eyebrows.

 

“Three, actually,” Hans said. “Yours is the farthest back on the left.”

 

Anna was quiet, tilting her head and glancing down the corridor. “…was that her room?” she asked softly.

 

Hans regarded her for a long moment. “…no,” he said finally. “Christabel never traveled with me.”

 

Anna bit her lip, a sudden bitter turn in the pit of her stomach.

 

It was the first time she’d ever heard him speak her name.

 

Hans watched the play of emotions across her face and placed his hands on Anna’s shoulders, gently turning her to face him. “Anna,” he said, cupping her chin in one gloved hand and forcing her to meet his eyes, “ _you_ are my wife now. You don’t have to worry about her.”

 

“It’s not that,” Anna murmured, averting her eyes. “It’s just…” She sighed. “I was alone for… so long, and I just… need to know that I’m not just… just filling the space she left behind.”

 

She started slightly as Hans ducked his head and trailed his lips over the side of her neck, and her breath hitched in her throat.

 

“You’ll have your own spaces to fill, Anna,” he said, the words ghosting over her skin. “That I can promise.”

 

Anna closed her eyes and hesitantly stroked her fingers through Hans’s hair. “You mean it?”

 

“With all my heart.”

 

Anna smiled gratefully as Hans straightened, dipping down to catch her lips in a warm kiss. “Trust me,” he murmured against her lips.

 

“I do,” Anna whispered. “I do trust you.”

 

“Then why don’t you head on back to your room and get comfortable. I’ll have the porter bring your travel case up. You’ll likely want to settle in for the evening soon. Get a few hours’ rest.”

 

“…I suppose so,” Anna said slowly. “I don’t suppose we’ll have supper here?”

 

“At the estate later, if that’s all right with you.”

 

“Actually, I’m a little hungr…” Anna dropped her gaze as Hans leveled her with a flat stare. “…I can wait,” she said, folding her hands together and worrying her lower lip between her teeth.

 

Hans leaned over and stroked the back of his hand down her cheek. “Run along now, Anna,” he said, before turning and making his way back out to the station platform.

 

Anna stood in the middle of the car for a long moment, curious eyes gazing over the rich mahogany furniture, the rich weaving of the carpet, everything polished and elegant and perfect.

 

But… cold, somehow. Sterile.

 

She found herself wishing distantly for dust and cobwebs, for well-worn furniture and overgrown gardens, and shook her head, hard.

 

“Might as well go check out my room,” she said, forcing a bright note into her voice that she didn’t entirely feel.

 

_The room farthest back on the left_ , he’d said. The door was a heavy oak panel, the knob a bright, spotless brass. She turned and pushed it open, grunting a little with the effort.

 

It was a simply but elegantly furnished room – a large hand-carved bed pressed to one wall, a small cherrywood writing desk against the other, and a dressing table in the corner. The bed was turned down, almost as if waiting for her.

 

Anna trailed her fingertips over the thick bedspread thoughtfully.

 

A heavy thunk against the door snapped her from her reverie, and she pushed it open to see Hans opening the door to the room across the way. He nodded to the valise beside her room. “Travel case,” he said simply. “I’ll wake you when we’ve arrived.” Without another word, he closed the door to his room firmly behind him.

 

Anna’s eyes widened at the tell-tale metallic sound of a lock sliding into place, and she gathered her bag into her arms in silence.

 

—-

 

It had seemed almost superfluous to change into her nightgown for only a few hours rest, and so Anna laid back on the bed in her traveling dress as the train chugged its way slowly towards the mountains.

 

She’d set a match to one of the lamps — Hans’s private car had much in the way of comforts, but no electric lights — and it cast a circle of slightly-wavering light over her features as she stared up at the ceiling, eyes dispassionate.

 

A small stationery set lay beside her on the bed.

 

Anna had been curious when her hands had brushed against the wooden box as she searched through her travel case for her hairbrush; it was a small case, battered and worn, with little room inside, and she certainly hadn’t packed anything of the sort.

 

She’d lifted the box out of the case and stared at it with curious eyes, running her fingers over it in the lamplight. It was a medium wood with a hinged lid, a slightly tarnished lock, and it smelled faintly and pleasantly of cedarwood. It seemed familiar somehow, for all its nondescriptness, and she tested the lock, found it undone, and carefully opened the lid.

 

Her eyes widened at the name painted in elegant gold leaf along the inside edge.

 

_Elsa Arendelle._

 

There was a stack of crisp, new sheets of paper and tidy envelopes tied together with a cream-colored ribbon within the box, and two elegant fountain pens on a bed of velvet.

 

A small, handwritten note in a familiarly elegant scrawl lay on top of them.

 

_Congratulations,_ it read.

 

Anna quickly tugged the stationery out of the box, tossing it carelessly onto her bed beside her, eyes scanning the box for something else, _anything_ …

 

But there was nothing.

 

And so she settled back onto the bed, hands folded neatly on her stomach, eyes unblinking as the train continued to carry her away to her new life, as a few meager splintered fragments of her past one lay beside her.

 

Did Elsa intend for her to write? She’d expressed no interest in hearing from Anna once she’d made her way to the Westergard estate… but then, Anna frowned a little, Elsa never expressed interest in much of anything.

 

At least… not anymore.

 

Not for a very long time.

 

_Dear Elsa,_ Anna tried mentally, as the train rocked gently, as her husband remained silent behind a closed door, as she stared and stared and stared.

 

_Dear Elsa._

 

_Dear Elsa._

 

_Dear Elsa._

 

—-

 

The rain had turned to a wet, heavy snow as they pulled into the station, Anna clutching her travel case, one of Hans’s hands warm on her back.

 

“Lord Westergard!” a kindly-faced porter exclaimed as he appeared at the door, lantern in hand, a scarf wound tight around his neck. “Pleasure to have you home, sir. Glad you arrived safely — storm’s been lashing at the mountain all day.” He moved forward to take Anna and Hans’s bags, offering Anna a deferential smile and a bow. “Lady Westergard.”

 

Anna flushed, the corners of her lips tilting up into a hesitant smile. “I guess that’s me now, isn’t it,” she said quietly, looking to Hans.

 

Hans said nothing, merely ran his thumb over the space between her shoulderblades and offered her a small smile.

 

The snow was heavy enough that she could barely see the path, and Anna allowed Hans to lead her firmly by the hand to the waiting carriage, far grander than the one they’d taken as she bid farewell to her childhood home. A pair of sturdy carthorses pawed at the ground and shook their heads in the snow, and a nattily-dressed driver bowed deeply at the waist as he opened the door for Anna and Hans.

 

Anna glanced back to him as he closed the door behind them, climbing up into the driver’s seat. “…your servants seem nice,” she said hesitantly, dusting off her cloak and glancing out the window to the swirl of snowflakes just outside.

 

Hans shrugged, settling back into the seat. “They’re servants,” he said. “They’re polite and well-behaved by design. Wouldn’t be on my staff if they weren’t.” He closed his eyes and settled his head back. “Did you rest on the train?”

 

Anna folded her lip in against her teeth, glancing out the window and into the darkness. “…a little,” she lied.

 

Hans’s hand came firm around her wrist, his thumb stroking over the soft skin on the inside.

 

“Good,” he murmured. “Wouldn’t want you to be tired for the evening’s festivities.”

 

There was something inscrutably cold deep in Anna’s chest as she brushed her fingers over Hans’s, still staring out into the night.

 

—-

 

The Westergard estate, she had heard, was a sprawling thing, fringed by snowcapped mountains and low walls, with verdant manicured gardens, broad fields and thick forests, all firmly within the family’s holdings.

 

Still, Anna was unprepared as they passed through the tall arch that signaled the beginning of his lands. The house itself was a massive creation of brick and white marble set atop a sloping hill above the fields, a number of similarly-constructed buildings nearby, the uses of which she couldn’t even begin to fathom. Even in the darkness, she could discern the overwhelming expanse of the lands of which she was now lady.

 

Her family had been relatively wealthy, in the Before.

 

But nothing like this.

 

Hans squeezed her hand, offering her a soft smile at the open wonder on her face. “Welcome home, Lady Westergard,” he murmured to her.

 

“…it’s huge,” Anna said, eyes wide as she pressed her free hand to the window. “Is _all_ of this yours?”

 

“All of it. My family has additional holdings in the south, but the mountain estate is mine.” He paused. “It once belonged to my father.”

 

Anna glanced at him over her shoulder. “’Belonged’?”

 

Hans regarded her levelly as the carriage slowed to a stop.

 

“Once,” he said.

 

—-

 

The doors to Hans’s bedchamber were broad and ornate, richly carved and detailed, and Anna felt her heartbeat quicken at the sight of them.

 

Hans glanced down to her and squeezed her hand in his. “I’ll be a moment,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “There’s something I need to fetch for you. A wedding present, of a kind.”

 

“…all right,” Anna said, glancing to the door.

 

“Go on, then,” Hans chastised lightly, and Anna took a deep breath and pushed the door open, her breath catching at the sight within.

 

It was an astoundingly ornate room, quite possibly larger than her childhood home in its entirety, with twin chandeliers suspended from the cathedral ceiling, all faceted crystals and gleaming gold. The floors were cool marble, the drapes at the floor-to-ceiling windows rich, dark velvet and damask. There was a large mahogany desk, several tall bookshelves spanning the length of an entire wall, richly-upholstered armchairs set in an informal sitting area….

 

And there, in the center of the room, large and purest snow-white, was the bed.

 

Anna swallowed hard at the sight of it, a slight note of unease crawling down her spine.

 

She started at the feel of Hans’s hand curving round her shoulder. “Wait for me,” he murmured, inclining his head towards the bed. “There.”

 

Anna nodded, a knot of inexplicable fear tight in her throat, and slumped against the door as soon as Hans had exited through it.

 

It was a beautiful bed, much like everything within the room – a sleigh style, with a high darkwood headboard, and after a long, long moment, Anna carefully made her way over to it, her slippers whispering softly over the marble floors.

 

She pressed one hand experimentally to the mattress, smiling a little at the rich softness beneath her palm.

 

When she raised her eyes, a dozen Annas looked back at her from around it, and she stumbled, gasped, raised a hand to her mouth as her reflections did the same.

 

“What…” Anna managed, eyes gone wide as she stared at the numerous full-length mirrors set up in a half-circle around the bed. She moved towards one, reaching out with hesitant fingertips, only to pull her hand back and clutch it close to her chest.

 

“Lovely, isn’t it?” a voice called from behind her, and Anna turned to see Hans shutting the door behind him, eyeing the mirrors with a pleased smile. “A personal touch.”

 

“I…” Anna hesitated, glancing to her frightened reflection from a dozen angles. “Is that… for…”

 

Hans came to stand before her, stroking one hand over her hair. “So I can see you,” he murmured, eyes boring deeply into hers. “When I take you properly.”

 

Anna’s eyes widened even further, and she felt the tell-tale burn of a flush rise to her cheeks. “…you said you had something for me?” she asked, attempting to turn her head, but her reflections still followed her from the corner of her eye.

 

Hans smiled. “Ah,” he said, curving his gloved hand over her cheek, “one night on the grounds of an estate and already so greedy.” He reached down to grasp Anna’s left hand in his, slipping the simple gold band from her ring finger.

 

“What…” Anna gasped, words and surprise fading as Hans reverently slipped another ring onto her finger.

 

It was a perfectly-cut fire opal, large as a robin’s egg, set in intricate twists of white gold. Anna turned her hand, watching as the stone flashed a multitude of colors, seeming to burn darkly from within.

 

“…it’s beautiful,” Anna murmured, running the thumb of her right hand over the stone.

 

“A little too ostentatious to wear every day,” Hans said, still holding her hand, “but for tonight… I felt it appropriate.”

 

“Is it a family heirloom?”

 

“Of a sort, yes.”

 

Anna glanced up at Hans through her eyelashes, a small smile appearing on her lips. “Thank you,” she said softly. Her heart seemed to thrum loud and hot around her as Hans leaned down to press his lips to hers.

 

“Anna,” he murmured against her lips. “You’re ready to fulfill your most important duty to me, dear wife.”

 

Anna trembled in his arms, from nerves, from excitement, from something curling delicious and hot in her belly that she couldn’t put a name to.

 

Wordlessly, she nodded.

 

—-

 

The moon rose bright and full through the windows, breaking through the curling snowclouds as Anna lay wrapped tightly in Hans’s arms, her husband breathing evenly in his sleep beside her.

 

Her lips were set into a tight line, tears dripping silently onto the pillow against her cheek.

 

_Such a good wife,_ he’d murmured, after, as she’d shook uncontrollably against him. _Just right._

 

She was supposed to be a good wife, she knew.

 

But no one had told her of this.

 

She’d been bashful at first, and he’d been gentle, kissing her eyelids, her forehead, sliding one hand up beneath the auburn fall of her hair and tilting her head back to observe the ruby choker still clasped tight around her neck.

 

“I think you’ll leave this on,” he’d said. “And only this.” He’d pulled her hair back with a firm hand before sitting down easily on the bed.

 

“Undress,” he said, the word a whipped command. “Now.”

 

Anna glanced to the lights burning too-bright above and all around them, to her trembling reflections clutching thin arms around thinner frames. “Can…” she started, hesitantly, “can we at least turn down the…”

 

“I gave you an order, wife.”

 

With trembling hands, she began to undo the buttons at her throat, pulling down her chemise, cheeks burning as she averted her eyes.

 

“Eyes on me.”

 

She hesitated.

 

“ _Now_.” Harsh and sharp, cutting through the air like a sword. “Don’t stop until I tell you to.”

 

He didn’t tell her to stop as she removed chemise and skirts, as she slipped out of petticoats and undergarments, until she stood before him in nothing but the ruby choker around her neck and the twisting curls of her unbound hair.

 

She trembled, tried to raise her arms to wrap them protectively around herself, but a sharp glance from Hans and she settled her hands back to her side, willing them to stop trembling.

 

Hans stood, unsmiling, eyes dark, and tugged at his cravat. “On your back,” he said sharply.

 

Anna climbed into bed on trembling legs, settling back against the pillows, as her husband undressed.

 

It hurt terribly when he finally took her, and she cried out, biting hard against her hand as he moved roughly inside her, until he sharply grasped her hand and forced it away from her teeth, his own hands bruising-tight and painful around her hips.

 

The mirrors gleamed around them as twelve husbands roughly took twelve weeping brides.

 

Afterwards, he held her close, the tip of his tongue tracing the line of her tears.

 

“Such a wonderful, dutiful wife,” he murmured, stroking his hands warmly over her arms, her shoulders, her back, even as she shook, silent tears tracking down her cheeks.

 

There was still a deep ache between her legs even now, after he’d curled up beside her and fallen asleep, and she could feel the sticky residue of her lost maidenhood still damp along her thighs.

 

Wordlessly, Anna slipped from the bed, shivering uncontrollably in the cold night air as she pulled on her discarded clothes, casting a wary eye at Hans as he continued to sleep.

 

He did not stir, even as she slowly opened the doors to their bedchamber and stole outside.

 

_Dear Elsa,_ she thought, a silent sob rising up at the back of her throat as her tears began to flow again in earnest, as she picked up into a run down the hall, as she made her way down the seemingly-endless spiral of stairs.

 

_Dear Elsa._

 

_Dear Elsa._

 

**_—-_ **

 

The barn was warm and comfortable, lanterns still fully aglow as Anna pushed open the door and hesitantly stepped inside.

 

She didn’t know how long she’d been walking, or how she’d stumbled across the sturdy building when she’d stopped. But the horses turned their heads in their stalls and neighed softly at her, and she managed a weak smile as she stepped fully inside, sighing gratefully at the sudden warmth.

 

Anna walked slowly, wringing her hands together as she made her way down the line of stalls. Hans had a great many horses, all perfectly-groomed and elegant, obviously well-bred creatures.

 

Much like himself, she thought, and closed her eyes against a fresh swell of tears that she couldn’t begin to understand.

 

She yelped in surprise as a heavy head settled on her shoulder. “Hey!” she cried indignantly, pushing the horse aside. “That’s not very polite.”

 

The horse in question snuffled and stared at her with its big, brown eyes, and Anna couldn’t help but smile and offer his nose a gentle rub. He was an exceedingly large creature, obviously bred more for work than riding, but he was friendly enough, nickering and leaning into her touch.

 

“Hi, boy,” Anna said softly, continuing to stroke his muzzle. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you.”

 

The horse neighed happily, and Anna’s smile grew even through her tears. “Noisy, though, aren’t you…” She glanced around to the handwritten sign beside his stall. “…Sven. That’s a very nice name. My name’s Anna.” She gave him a firm pat on his muzzle and moved to sit on a small hay bale near to his stall.

 

“You may have heard,” she said quietly, drawing her knees up to her chest, “or… I mean, maybe you haven’t, I’m sure you’re very busy with all kinds of horse things… but I’m kind of the lady of the house now.”

 

Sven snuffled and eyed her quizzically.

 

“I know, I don’t look it, right? But Lord Westergard… Hans…” She wrapped her arms around her knees. “I kind of fell in love with him. You know. A _lot_. And he fell in love with me. And then he asked me to marry him and it just… kind of happened.”

 

Another snuffle.

 

“I know, he’s a great guy. He’s handsome and charming and wealthy and just _so_ refined and he… treats me like a princess, he really does.”

 

A questioning snort.

 

“Why am I crying then, huh?” Anna offered up a short, humorless laugh and turned her face against her knees. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice breaking on a sob. “I don’t know, Sven. I don’t know.”

 

She sat up straight, eyes going wide as the barn door slammed open, a broad-set man silhouetted in the doorway.

 

“I… I’m sorry,” Anna said quickly, standing and straightening her skirts before surreptitiously scrubbing a hand across her eyes. “I… I was just out for a walk and I… got kind of cold and I figured I’d just… duck into the barn to warm up for a minute. I didn’t mean any harm, I promise.”

 

The man brushed a thick layer of snow off his clothes as he moved into the light, and Anna could only make out his eyes over the woolen scarf he had wrapped around his nose and mouth.

 

“I…” She stammered, unconsciously taking a step back, “…I’m sorry, I just… I just got here a little while ago, if I did anything wrong, it wasn’t on purpose, I mean it.”

 

The man walked over to her with heavy footsteps, leaving a trail of melting snow behind him, and Anna felt a sudden rush of fear as he stood nearly toe-to-toe with her.

 

Her eyes slowly scanned up to his.

 

They were very, very far up.

 

“Carrots,” he said suddenly in a gruff voice muffled by his scarf.

 

Anna stared at him. “…what?”

 

“Behind you.”

 

Anna slowly turned her head to see a small bundle of carrots on the hay bale upon which she’d been seated. “Oh,” she said, brushing off her skirts and moving to one side. “Right. Sorry.”

 

The man eyed her curiously before reaching down to retrieve the carrots in one large, gloved hand, tossing one to a delighted Sven.

 

“So…” Anna said, eyeing the snow covering the man’s clothes, “you got caught out in that bad storm, huh?”

 

The man lit a nearby lantern, not speaking.

 

“I wonder where it came from.”

 

“The North Mountain.” That same gruff voice.

 

Anna frowned a little, watching as he untied the scarf from around his face. He was younger than she’d have thought from his rough demeanor, all ruddy cheeks and shaggy blond hair. “Do… do you work here in the stables?” Anna asked hesitantly.

 

“Yeah,” the man answered, still not looking at her as he tugged off his snow-covered coat.

 

“…must be nice,” Anna said, wrapping her arms around herself again as she leaned against the far wall. “I… I like horses.”

 

The man raised an eyebrow at her. “And you are?”

 

“…oh,” Anna said, offering up a half-hearted smile. “Anna Arendelle.” She frowned. “Er. Westergard. Lady Westergard. But is it Lady _Anna_ Westergard? Or just plain Lady Westergard? You’d think they’d want a way to distinguish…”

 

“So you’re the new one, then.” The man eyed her dispassionately, and Anna’s shoulders fell.

 

“Yeah,” she said quietly, “I’m the new one.”

 

The man shrugged, turning to rub his hand over Sven’s muzzle. “Oh.”

 

“We… we were just married today. Or I suppose it’s yesterday now,” Anna began softly, almost to herself. “It was… it was beautiful. Everything here is so beautiful.”

 

She swallowed against a hitching sob, curling her arms tightly against her middle. “I know it’s all going to be perfect,” she managed to say, attempting to keep the waver from her voice, the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes from spilling over. The last thing she needed was one of the servants reporting that she’d been crying on her wedding night, before she’d even been introduced to anyone, before she’d even done _anything_ befitting a lady of…

 

Anna sputtered as something soft hit her squarely in the face.

 

“Hey!” she sputtered, reaching up one hand to tug away the square of fabric, letting it drape over her palm. A handkerchief — plain and rough, but clean.

 

She glanced to the man, who was steadfastly ignoring her stare as he continued to pet Sven.

 

“…thank you,” she said quietly, dabbing at her eyes before noisily blowing her nose.

 

“Don’t mention it.”

 

“I won’t, don’t worry.” Anna managed a hint of a teary smile as she balled the handkerchief up in her fist. “I’ll get this laundered for you by tomorrow, I promise.”

 

“It’s fine,” the man said with a shrug. “Keep it as long as you need it.”

 

There was something strange to his voice, almost dark, and Anna clutched the handkerchief more tightly in her hand. “Well,” she said, “I don’t anticipate needing it for long. It’s just…” She frowned, biting her lip. “…it’s just early marriage jitters, I guess. I’ve never been married before.”

 

“At least one of you hasn’t.”

 

Anna raised an eyebrow at the man, and he met her inquisitive stare levelly. “He told you, right? About Christabel?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Just checking. Hans can be kind of…” The man laughed, harsh and humorless. “… _forgetful_ sometimes.”

 

“You mean, Lord Westergard, I think,” Anna said, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes a little.

 

The man laughed again, quirking a grin at her. “No,” he said, “pretty sure I meant Hans.” He tossed Sven another carrot. “I’ve been on this estate since I was born. Since before he even _was_ ‘Lord Westergard’.”

 

“Oh,” Anna said. “And… do you run the stables, then?”

 

“Something like that.” He rolled his shoulders and winced slightly. “I do lots of things.”

 

“Like?”

 

“Anything that needs to be done. _Lord Westergard_ …” The man eyed her meaningfully. “…has always had a hard time keeping staff. So I fill in where I’m needed. On top of everything else he has me do around here.”

 

“Does he pay you well, at least?”

 

The man sighed in frustration. “Look, lady,” he began, “nothing against you personally, but I’ve kind of had a long day of it, so if you don’t mind, I’d really like to get some sleep.”

 

“…oh. Sorry.” Anna bit her lip. “And it’s Lady Westergard.”

 

The man gave her a flat stare.

 

“Or just Anna.” She offered him a hint of a smile.

 

“Okay, ‘just Anna,’” the man said, crossing his arms over his chest, his own lips turning up slightly at the corners, “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

 

“I’m sure.”

 

“Goodnight, then.”

 

“Goodnight.” Anna kept her arms wrapped around herself as she headed for the barn door, a bit of the fear and coldness deep within her chest now surprisingly at ease.

 

A thought occurred to her as she reached the door, and she whirled back. “Hey!” she called down the line of stalls.

 

The man glanced up at her. “What?”

 

“What’s your name?”

 

He paused, eyeing her carefully from the distance.

 

“…Kristoff,” he said finally. “It’s Kristoff.”

 

Anna smiled, still clutching the handkerchief tightly in her hand.

 

“Nice to meet you, Kristoff,” she whispered.

 

—-

 

The sun rose warm and bright over the estate the next morning, and Anna woke to Hans bringing her breakfast in bed and smoothing her hair back from her forehead.

 

“You did beautifully last night,” he murmured to her, bringing her hand to his lips.

 

Anna smiled at him and poked around at the array of fruit he’d brought her. “I…” she began hesitantly. “I was… a little frightened at first.”

 

“Oh?”

 

Anna nodded, ducking her head down against her chest until Hans cupped her chin firmly in his hand.

 

“Anna,” he said, voice all silk and honey, “as long as you do as I say, you’ll never have to be afraid.”

 

His kiss was soft and sweet, and Anna pressed closer to him, his warmth, and the fear that had curled tightly around her in the night continued to melt away.

 

It was mid-afternoon when she finally found her way back to the stables, after Hans had introduced her to some of the household staff and she’d curtseyed neatly to them from her place on his arm, after they’d shared a romantic picnic lunch out on the veranda, Hans holding her hand and motioning to a servant to refill her glass every time she took a sip.

 

It was, somehow, coming together. She was the wife of a handsome lord, living on a beautiful estate…

 

And, she thought, smile widening as she pushed into the stables, she might even have a new friend.

 

“But I _hate_ my medicine!” a grumbly voice came from the other end of the barn, and Anna’s eyes widened.

 

“Too bad, buddy,” Kristoff said, leaning with his arms crossed against the door to Sven’s stall, “you know you have to take it.”

 

“But it tastes terrible,” Kristoff grumbled to himself, and he grinned widely at the horse and rubbed its muzzle. “Yeah, well,” he said in his normal voice, “last thing we need is you catching another cold like you did last fall. Remember all the _extra_ medicine you had to take?”

 

“ _Okay_ ,” ‘Sven’ grumbled, and Kristoff smiled as he reached down to retrieve a small bottle.

 

“…hi,” Anna offered brightly, and Kristoff jumped back, the bottle spinning on the ground beside his foot as she walked up to him, her hands clasped behind her back.

 

“…hi,” Kristoff said in his familiarly-gruff voice, averting his gaze but failing to hide the blush rising to his cheeks.

 

Anna grinned hugely at him. “I take it Sven can be a little difficult sometimes?”

 

“You have no idea,” Kristoff said, glowering as Sven neighed happily and pushed his head against Kristoff’s, eyes bright with adoration as he saw Anna.

 

“Hi, buddy,” Anna said warmly. “I brought you something!” Her smile grew wider as she pulled one hand from behind her back and dangled a carrot from between her fingertips.

 

Sven neighed in excitement and tried to push forward.

 

“Ah ah _ah_ ,” Anna tutted, pulling the carrot back. “I understand _someone_ needs to take some medicine.” She eyed Sven meaningfully as the horse’s ears drooped. “But I think a good boy who _takes_ his medicine deserves a nice big carrot, don’t you, Kristoff?”

 

Kristoff sighed and dropped his forehead against his palm. “Don’t talk to him like that,” he said. He reached down to retrieve the bottle, pulling out the stopper. Sven obediently opened his mouth, and Kristoff carefully tilted a portion of its contents inside. Sven snuffled and shook his head, but swallowed. “There you go, buddy,” Kristoff said warmly, reaching over to scratch his ear. “All done. Not so bad, was it?”

 

“Good _boy_ , Sven!” Anna said happily, brushing past Kristoff to rub Sven’s muzzle before feeding him the carrot. “Such a very good boy.”

 

She turned back to Kristoff, smile softening a little. “Here,” she said, handing him his handkerchief. “Laundered and pressed. Just like I promised.” She paused. “It’s looking better, now.”

 

Kristoff tucked the handkerchief into his pocket. “Good,” he said, not looking at her.

 

“You’re a good friend.”

 

“We’re not friends.”

 

Anna bit her lip and eyed him mischievously. “But we _could_ be.”

 

Kristoff rolled his eyes and put the stopper back into the bottle. “No we couldn’t.”

 

“I’m _really_ persistent.”

 

“I couldn’t tell.” He crooked a hint of a grin at her. “Anything else you needed, Anna?”

 

Anna’s own smile grew wider at the use of her name. “Well…” she started, “Hans is going to be busy all day tomorrow with work, and there’s all this land I’m supposedly in charge of now that I haven’t seen. Might be good to see it. You know. On horseback. With someone who knows the lay of it.” She grinned at him.

 

Kristoff sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You know I work here, right?” he deadpanned. “As in, have actual work to perform. Manual labor.”

 

Anna bit her lip and rocked back on her heels.

 

“And I doubt your dear husband there would be too thrilled to have me giving his wife a tour of the place while I’m supposed to be…”

 

“Please?” Anna intoned, batting her eyelashes.

 

Kristoff stared at her for a long moment before exhaling angrily. “Seven,” he said, glaring at her. “ _Sharp_.”

 

Anna only grinned even wider in response.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after the darkness and angst of the first two chapters, this one is… definitely on the light side. Very light. We’re kind of undergoing something of a tonal shift as we move into the second act of the story. The real drama will happen when the first and second acts collide a few chapters from now. 
> 
> Until then, though, enjoy the happiness (and Kristoff and Anna being total dorks together).

When Anna woke the next morning, the sky was still violet-dark, a crimson-gold ribbon of first light curling along the horizon, and Hans was gone, his side of the bed neatly-made and cold to the touch.

 

There was a sheet of paper on his pillow, his familiar hand laid out in precise lines and careful lettering, and Anna rubbed at her bleary eyes with one hand as she lifted the sheet in the other.

 

_Anna,_ it read. _Business to attend to in town. I’ll be home late this evening. Conduct yourself properly while I’m gone.  –H_

 

Anna was quiet as she slowly set the note back down upon her absent husband’s pillow. _Conduct yourself properly_ , she thought, frowning a little and glancing to the note. A difficult task when as of yet no one had explained what that proper conduct entailed.

 

 

True, she thought, unconsciously curling her legs tighter to her small frame, locking them close together, Hans _had_ already begun to demonstrate what was… _expected_ of her as his wife (he’d granted her a reprieve from her marital duties the previous night, and she’d swallowed a silent sigh of relief, having imagined that the seemingly-inevitable sharp pain between her legs would be excruciating when in the saddle the following morning), but apart from the obligations of the flesh and the steadfast deference and submission that seemed her wifely due… Anna was at something of a loss.

 

She turned slightly onto her side, pulling the thick blankets closer, snuggling her face in against the soft padded coverlet until only her eyes peeked out above the hem, distant and clouded in the semi-darkness.

 

She hadn’t anticipated finding herself alone in a cold bed on the second morning of her marriage.

 

Not after so many years spent in mornings so painfully similar.

 

Anna was quiet as she rose from the too-tall bed, swinging her legs over the side and dropping down with a small “oof”. The fire opal upon her left hand seemed to burn in the early morning light as she twisted her hands together, her stockinged feet a quiet whisper along the marble floors as she walked to the tall French windows.

 

The sun rose steadily higher now, red-gold skies fading to soft pink and orange, and the light spread of snow across the grounds below shone and sparkled in the first rays of morning. The estate really was quite beautiful in the light, all rolling, easy hills, fringed at a distance by thick bands of forest and the silent, watchful mountains, snowcaps struck pure white against the dawn.

 

She could be happy here, Anna thought, pressing her fingers to the windowglass, spidery frost curled into the corners and along the lintels.

 

She _would_ be happy here.

 

Mindful of the time — Kristoff’s exasperated words echoed in her mind, and Anna smiled a little to herself (such a seemingly gruff man. So much bluster) — she swiftly made her way to the far side of the room, to the hand-carved cherrywood armoire, its hulking frame towering above curved cabriole legs, handles shining brass.  

 

Hans had shown her its contents the day before, taking her hand and pulling her beside him as he pulled open the armoire doors, revealing a long row of beautifully-tailored dresses. “The latest designs, all newly imported from Paris,” he’d said, leaning down and pressing a lingering kiss to her temple. “Just a small token of my affection for you.”

 

Anna had reached out with one hesitant hand, eyes wide as she looked to Hans for approval.

 

“Go on, then,” he smiled, stroking one hand along her cheek, gloved fingertips soft along the ridge of her cheekbone. “They’re yours.”

 

Lips turning up into a slow, shy smile, Anna took a deep breath and let her hands move through the dresses, running fingertips over supple silk and velvet, delicate beadwork, deft-handed embroidery. There were rich jewel-tones, all forest-greens and russet reds, and a few demure pieces of soft greys and creams. At the far end, still laid out in pure-white lace and silk, was her wedding dress. Anna took the skirt in one hand, thumb rubbing over the soft fabric, and smiled.

 

“…it’s so much,” she murmured. “I… they’re almost too beautiful to wear.” She turned her eyes to Hans and offered him a small, deferential smile. “Thank you,” she said softly.

 

Hans laid an arm easily along her shoulders, turning his lips in against her ear. “I’ve told you,” he said quietly. “Do as I tell you, and you’ll have everything you could possibly desire.”

 

Anna smiled a little to herself at the memory of his words, though the light of it faltered before reaching her eyes as she cast her gaze back to the empty bed.

 

Tamping back the sigh that seemed to rise to the back of her throat, Anna pursed her lips as she carefully sorted through the dresses, finally deciding on a soft green gown with a natural silhouette, somewhat understated and simple, but dove-soft and still beautifully-sewn just the same. She settled at the nearby vanity, combing careful fingers through her sleep-mussed hair before carefully fastening the auburn waves into two neat plaits.

 

The fire opal on her finger flashed ever brighter in the growing morning light, and Anna bit her lip and hesitated before quickly slipping it off. She wordlessly retrieved the simple gold band Hans had first given her, replacing its flashier counterpart around her finger.

 

Fairytale princesses always suffered for their happy endings, she reminded herself, glancing from her ring to her marriage bed.

 

She supposed she could wait a little longer for hers.

 

—-

 

The manor seemed fully-awake even if Anna herself wasn’t, stretching and yawning as she made her way down the halls, all darkwood floors and ornate tapestries set over thick stone walls. Servants bustled about even in the early hour, maids with armfuls of laundry and small-framed kitchen boys scurrying quickly as they prepared for the day’s tasks.

 

Anna attempted to greet them with smiles and waves, even the odd curtsey, but the servants seemed to steadfastly avoid her gaze, murmuring excuses and shying away as she passed. The boldest seemed to linger briefly, offering her wary glances before moving quickly to begin their work.

 

It was not, Anna thought, biting her lip against a self-conscious frown and clenching her hands into her skirts, a particularly promising start to her first day as the lady of the house.

 

Nor was it familiar to her own experiences with servants at her family’s homestead, but then, Gerda had never been seen as a servant so much as a member of the family, stalwart and stern but loving, and fully-devoted to the care of her young charges, even as the years turned, as the burden grew heavier and heavier…

 

Anna shook her head, sharp and fast, and bit her lip against the pushing swell of memories.

 

The path to the stables she’d by now become fairly acquainted with — it was a short trip from the door that led from the kitchens, down a short flight of stone steps worn smooth with age and use, across the shaded courtyard with its marble pillars and disused fountains, through the small vegetable garden, through the gate, and down the sloping hill to the sturdy whitewashed wooden structure, its broad-flanked doors already opened in preparation for the day’s travels and labor.

 

Anna’s eyes widened at the sight of a beautiful snow-white mare tied to a split-oak hitching post outside, already tacked, her mane and tail perfectly combed and her saddle oiled and gleaming in the morning light.

 

“Hi, girl,” Anna said softly, stroking a gentle hand along the mare’s neck as she approached her. “What a beautiful girl you are. Such a lovely coat. I guess you’re mine, huh?” Anna smiled as the mare nickered and pushed against her hand.

 

“Well, technically, she’s your husband’s, but I’ve been ‘instructed’ to give her to you for the day,” a dry voice noted from nearby, and Anna raised an eyebrow as Kristoff came through the barn doors, the sleeves of his roughspun shirt rolled up to his elbows, dark smudges beneath his eyes.

 

“…didn’t sleep well?” Anna asked, giving the mare a firm pat before turning her attention fully to Kristoff, eyeing his slumped posture and haggard appearance and offering him a concerned frown.

 

Kristoff shrugged, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I’ll live,” he said. “Are you ready?”

 

Anna glanced behind him and into the barn, where Sven remained in his stall, even as he pushed against the door in an attempt to see her and neighed happily. “Uh…” Anna started, brow furrowing in confusion, “are you… not riding Sven?”

 

“No.”

 

“…oh.” Anna glanced back to the mare, taking in the lead strap attached to her halter. “Wait,” she started, looking from the mare to Kristoff in confusion, “you are… you are _riding,_ aren’t you?”

 

“No,” Kristoff said flatly, brushing past her to inspect the mare’s tack, steadfastly avoiding her gaze. “Now do you want me to fetch you a mounting block or do you want to me to just get on my hands and knees in the dirt and have you climb up on my back?”

 

Anna narrowed her eyes as he absently straightened the mare’s bridle, mouth set in a tight, firm line. “I’m sorry, what?”

 

“It’d be fitting of your ‘station,’” Kristoff continued, rolling his eyes a little before gesturing to Anna’s dress. “And for the record, you’re probably going to have a hard time riding sidesaddle in that thing.”

 

Anna crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at him. “I don’t need to ride sidesaddle,” she said, leaning up against the barn wall, brows drawn tight in irritation. “I can do just fine astride.”

 

“Not according to your darling husband, you can’t,” Kristoff said, fixing Anna with a meaningful stare. “He had a few choice words for me this morning about everything that was ‘expected’ if you were going to ride.”

 

Anna dropped her hands to her sides, eyebrows raised. “He came to see you?”

 

“That’s what I said. Was nice of him to do it a full hour before I needed to be awake, too.”

 

“What did _he_ say?”

 

Kristoff shrugged. “Lots of things. Ignored most of them, but the general gist was ‘if you’re taking my wife out for a ride this morning, remember who she is and _what_ you are’.” He gestured to the mare. “Specifically _requested_ that you were to ride the finest mare, sidesaddle like a ‘proper lady,’” he gestured with his fingers, “and I don’t ride. I lead.”

 

Anna sighed and frowned a little as she reached out to stroke the mare’s neck. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it as a personal thing,” she said quietly. “He’s just… kind of on this… _thing_ about making sure that I’m ‘proper’ right now. Whatever that means.” She shrugged. “I don’t mind if you ride.”

 

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Kristoff grumbled, almost too low to hear.

 

“Well,” Anna said, carding her hand through the mare’s silken mane, “Hans is off on business today, so no one even has to know. Will it take you long to saddle up Sven?”

 

“Sven won’t take a saddle unless he has to. He hates them.”

 

“…oh,” Anna said, biting her lip. “Well… that’s kind of inconvenient for a horse, isn’t it? Although I guess you could probably ride him bareback without too much trouble. You guys seem to have a pretty good bond.”

 

Kristoff glanced to her quickly before looking away. “I’ve had him since he was born,” he said quietly, avoiding her curious gaze. “No one else wanted him.”

 

“…but you did,” Anna said, very quietly.

 

Kristoff’s eyes were inscrutable as he stared at her. “…doesn’t matter,” he said finally, turning away from her. “He’s not coming with us. Let me grab a mounting block from the tack shed for you and we can go.”

 

“I’m not going anywhere if you’re not riding, too,” Anna insisted, reaching out to catch Kristoff’s arm in one small hand.

 

Kristoff sighed, gently pulling his arm away. “Anna,” he said, “I really don’t have time for this. We have a busy day out in the fields getting the estate ready for winter. Now would you just do what you’re…”

 

Anna grimaced and turned back to the mare with an angry sigh. “What I’m told,” she finished, closing her eyes and flexing her fingers against the mare’s flank.

 

_Do what you’re told, Anna._

 

_Do what you’re told._

 

_Do what you’re…_

 

_“Do what you’re told, Anna!” Mother’s words were sharp and exhausted with worry, rising high as the house echoed with desperate screams, and Anna was forced into her room, the door slamming shut behind her as the screams continued, filling the air and ringing out, sobbing and awful, and Anna clutched her hands to her ears and bit back the answering sobs rising to the back of her throat…_

 

“…Anna?”

 

Kristoff’s voice came to her, questioning but soft, and Anna felt the familiar sharp, hot bite of tears in her eyes.

 

“…you okay?” Kristoff asked, raising an eyebrow at her. When Anna didn’t respond, he sighed, rummaging through his pockets. “Wait, here…”

 

Anna waved off his concern and the handkerchief he produced. “No, I… I’m okay,” she said quietly. “Just… remembering something. From a long time ago. It’s okay. Really.”

 

Kristoff eyed her warily for a long moment before returning the handkerchief to his pocket. “You do that a lot,” he observed, watching her carefully.

 

Anna frowned at him, pride stung. “Not as often as you think,” she said. “You just keep catching me at bad times.”

 

“Apparently.” Kristoff sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re not getting on the horse, are you.”

 

“Are you going to make me?”

 

“I can’t _make_ you do anything. Not sure anyone can. You’re pretty stubborn for such a small thing.” Kristoff offered her a quirk of a smile, and Anna felt her own lips turn up slightly in response.

 

“Seems like that’s the only way to get through to anyone around here,” Anna said, propping one hand along her hip.

 

“Fair enough,” Kristoff said, sighing and offering her a humorless smile. “All right.”

 

Anna’s smile grew a fraction wider. “You’ll ride with me, then?”

 

“No,” Kristoff said flatly. “Hans may not be here, but his eyes always are.”

 

“…what?” Anna blinked at him.

 

“Figure of speech. Last thing I need is someone telling him I was riding side-by-side with his wife through the fields.”

 

“But why would it matter? It’s not like we’re _doing_ anything.”

 

Kristoff eyed her carefully. “…you really don’t know your husband very well, do you?”

 

Anna stared at him, opening her mouth to speak even as the words seemed to die in her throat.

 

_You can’t marry a man you just met._ Elsa’s words, sharp and disbelieving, cutting into her lovesick haze like a sharpened knife, and she’d railed against her sister’s admonition because it was true love, **_true love_** _…_

 

But even now…

 

Did she _truly_ know her husband?

 

…she didn’t, Anna realized, raising doubtful eyes to the manor house, large and imposing off in the distance.

 

…she really didn’t.

 

Kristoff carefully watched the spread of darkness and doubt across Anna’s features and sighed, moving past her to untie the mare’s reins from the hitching post with quick, deft fingers. “Give me a minute,” he said, starting to lead the mare into the stables.

 

“Where are you going?” Anna called after him.

 

“Gonna untack her,” Kristoff called back gruffly. “We’ll go on foot.”

 

The darkness tumbling about in Anna’s thoughts began to fade, and she suppressed a small smile as Kristoff disappeared into the barn with the mare trotting obediently behind him on her lead.

 

“You really are a good friend, Kristoff,” she called to him, just loud enough to be heard, unable to help herself.

 

“We’re not friends, _Anna,_ ” Kristoff called back from inside the barn, his voice echoing.

 

Anna crossed her arms over the bodice of her dress and shook her head, smile growing just a little wider.

 

—-

 

They got off to a later start of it than Kristoff would have liked, and he sighed as he glanced to the track of the sun across the morning sky, grimacing and staring off to the fields.

 

Anna followed his gaze and frowned self-consciously. “…we can do this another day if it’s easier,” she offered, twisting her hands together.

 

Kristoff shook his head. “Easier to do it now before winter really starts setting in,” he said, thrusting his hands into his pockets and starting down the dirt path alongside the barn. His legs were much longer than hers, and Anna had to set into a brisk stride to keep pace with him.

 

“I guess winters are harder up here in the mountains than they are down in the valley, huh,” Anna said, glancing to the grassy knolls, the small, neatly-enclosed pastures, the washed-wood outbuildings set alongside them.

 

Kristoff shrugged. “Don’t have much to compare to,” he said. “I’ve been here my whole life. But yeah. Winter’s hard.” He nodded to the field on his left. “Might as well start the tour. Sheep.”

 

Anna looked to the small enclosure, to the small herd of sheep grazing peacefully on the patches of grass that remained undusted by snow, their woolen coats thick and full. “They look like little cotton puffs,” Anna grinned, leaning up against the fence. “They’re cute.”

 

“Less cute when you’re trying to wrangle them for the shearing,” Kristoff noted drily, coming to stand beside her. “They can be ornery bastards.” He glanced to Anna. “Sorry.”

 

Anna rolled her eyes. “It’s fine. It’s not like I’ve never heard swear words before.”

 

“Just wanted to make sure I’m keeping you ‘proper’ out here,” Kristoff said with a wry grin.

 

“Jerk.”

 

“Language.”

 

Anna spared Kristoff a flat glare that faded into a smile as he smirked at her. “Do you have to shear them now? Can I help?”

 

Kristoff laughed and rested his arms along the fence. “You want to shear the flock in late fall?”

 

“Why, is that bad?”

 

“It’s bad if you want a bunch of just-shorn sheep wandering around the fields in the snow.”

 

“It’s not like they’d be _naked_.”

 

“ _Language_.”

 

“Oh, shut _up_.” Anna huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ve never had sheep, okay? I don’t know when you shear them.”

 

Kristoff shook his head and smiled at her. “ _Spring_ ,” he said meaningfully. “March, usually.”

 

“…oh,” Anna said, hoisting herself up to the highest rung on the fence, arranging her skirts, and sitting down, one hand holding fast to the post. “Can I help _then_?” she repeated.

 

Kristoff pushed back from the fence, eyeing her. “Not sure your husband would be too thrilled about you helping out around the estate,” he said finally. “He usually likes his wives to stay locked away up at the house.”

 

_Wives_. Anna’s face slowly fell, and she turned her eyes to the field, focusing on the sheep moving closer as they grazed. “…I guess… she was probably a lot better at the whole ‘being proper’ thing, huh,” she said, turning to Kristoff and offering him a mirthless smile.

 

“…I wouldn’t say that,” Kristoff said.

 

“Did you know her?” Anna asked, very quietly.

 

Kristoff hesitated, resting one broad hand along the top rail of the fence. “A little,” he said finally.

 

“What…” Anna started, the words seeming to freeze tight in her throat. “What was she like?”

 

Kristoff was quiet for a long moment, staring off into the middle distance. “…kind,” he said finally.

 

He pushed up from the fence. “Sad,” he said, turning and starting back down the path.

 

“Kristoff?” Anna called curiously, brow furrowed as she climbed down from the fence.

 

“Come on,” he called gruffly over his shoulder as he continued down the path. “We’ve still got a lot of ground to cover, and I’ve got work to do.”

 

Anna settled into mute step beside him, glancing back to the pasture, then to Kristoff, wondering at what lay beneath the gruff man’s words.

 

—-

 

It took surprisingly little time to see the whole of the grounds, all told, even as they made their way on foot. Kristoff was short, brisk, and methodical, leading her to the pastures, the cornfields plucked bare so late in the season, pointing out the squat servants’ quarters, the mill in the distance, everything neatly-arrayed and bordered even as they lay flush beside the tangled wilds of the forest at their edges.

 

“Does Hans own the woods as well?” Anna asked as she and Kristoff stood beside the low stone wall that ran the length of the estate. A few feet of cleared brush opened the space here by a pair of polished iron gates leading into the forest. There was a clear path beyond the boundary, but the land turned wild and untamed just a short distance past.

 

“Hans owns everything,” Kristoff said flatly, crossing his arms and staring towards the path with clouded eyes. “And the things he doesn’t, he thinks he does.”

 

Anna eyed him curiously. “What does that…”

 

“Nevermind,” Kristoff grumbled, avoiding her gaze. “The woods are nominally his. He has exclusive hunting rights to them, at least.”

 

“He hunts?”

 

“Sometimes.”

 

“Do you?”

 

“More often than he does,” Kristoff said, leaning up against the wall. “Someone has to keep the pantry full.” He glanced to the forest. “Hans is good with a sword. Less so with a bow.”

 

“Wait,” Anna frowned, following his gaze to the forest. “Do you _have_ to hunt?”

 

“If he wants venison and pheasant for the table, yeah.”

 

“Why doesn’t he just have someone on staff to do that specifically, then?” Anna’s brow furrowed, and she tilted her head as she looked at Kristoff. “And someone to shear the sheep? And… to do whatever else you have to do?”

 

Kristoff met her gaze dead-on. “I’ve told you before,” he said, “your husband’s always had trouble keeping staff. I have to pick up the slack as best I can.”

 

“…that doesn’t seem fair,” Anna said, frowning a little.

 

“No one ever said life was fair.”

 

“But why…” Anna hesitated, wringing her hands together and biting her lip.

 

Kristoff raised an eyebrow at her. “Yeah?”

 

Anna turned to stare at the manor house off in the distance, dropping her eyes to her skirts. “Nothing,” she said finally. “Nothing.”

 

Kristoff stared at her for a long moment. “…I’ve been here a long time, Anna,” he said. “I don’t ask questions. Probably why I’m still here and the others aren’t.”

 

“Starting to think no one would answer them even if I asked,” Anna said, shoulders slumping a little in exasperation.

 

“Is asking questions ‘proper’?” Kristoff asked, only half-joking.

 

Anna sighed, leaning against the wall opposite from him. “I don’t know,” she admitted, very quietly. “I don’t… I don’t really know what being ‘proper’ means. I’m… not sure what he wants from me.”

 

Kristoff was quiet. “You’ll figure it out,” he said finally. “You’ve got plenty of time for it, anyway.”

 

Anna glanced to him with a small smile. “You think so?”

 

“Well, unless you get divorced or one of you dies, anyway. Never been married, but I think that’s how it works.”

 

Anna stared wordlessly back to the house, absently running her fingers over her wedding band.  

 

_Kind._

 

_Sad._

 

“Yeah, “she said quietly. “I think that’s how it works.”

 

—-

 

Their last stop was at the very front of the estate, where a sturdy stone bridge spanned a wide, fast-moving river cut deep into the mountainside. The road beyond it was just wide enough for a carriage, all smooth, packed earth worn down from years of rain and travel, and another thick forest ran alongside it, the mountains looming large over the towering pines and spruces.

 

“…I didn’t really see the entrance when we came in on my wedding night. Too dark,” Anna said, leaning up against the stone balustrade along the bridgepath and staring down at the river as it rushed white and fast over sharp, tumbling stones. “Does that freeze?”

 

“It will later in the season,” Kristoff said, standing beside her and resting his hands along the balustrade. “It’s damn cold even in the summer.”

 

“ _Language_ ,” Anna said, offering Kristoff an arched eyebrow, and he smiled at her in response. “It’s all right. I haven’t really gone swimming in a long time.”

 

“Not much for the outdoors, are you?”

 

Anna frowned, eyes going distant as she stared down at the river. “…not for a long time,” she said quietly. “My sister and I… when we were little, our parents would take us out hiking. There was a river not far from our house, and we would…” She felt a sudden lump high in her throat, and she struggled to swallow it back. “…we would go swimming when the weather turned warm.”

 

She stared off into the distance. “Elsa… always liked to go swimming,” she said, very quietly, staring down at the rushing water. “Before…”

 

_The screams continued, awful and desperate, and unable to bear it, she pushed open her bedroom door, just a crack, just enough to see._

 

_Mother and Father held Elsa tight between them as she screamed, tried to tear away from their grasp, flailing and striking as they carried her to the bath._

 

_“Elsa, stop!” Mother cried, struggling to hold Elsa’s arms still. “It’s just a bath, sweetheart, it’s not going to hurt you! It’s not like the treatments!”_

 

_Anna trembled by her door as Elsa continued to scream, **not the water, don’t put me near the water again, I’ll be good I promise!** until Gerda finally appeared from downstairs, her skirts gathered tight in her hands, mouth tight and pinched as she took Elsa’s screaming, thrashing form from Mother and Father and trundled her into the washroom, closing the door firmly behind her. _

 

_Mother collapsed into Father’s arms, and he brought them tight around her, supporting her as she sobbed against his collar, as Elsa’s screams rose high above the sound of splashing water and Anna slammed her bedroom door closed, sliding down against it and biting her fist against her own shuddering sobs._

 

Anna started at a light touch along her wrist, eyes wide as she looked to Kristoff, who quickly moved his hand away.

 

“…sorry,” he mumbled, moving a step farther away from her. “You were doing it again.”

 

Anna nodded, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. “I…” she started, tearing her eyes away from the river. “I was just… remembering again.” She bit her lip and ducked her head to her chest. “My sister… kind of had a thing about water.”

 

“…oh,” Kristoff said, leaning up against the balustrade.

 

Silence stretched between them for a long moment, only the sounds of mountain birds chirping off in the distance and the rush of water below cutting through the still air.

 

“My sister…” Anna started, surprising herself as she began to speak, “…she’s been sick for a long time.”

 

Kristoff said nothing, settling back against the balustrade and staring ahead.

 

Anna sighed, scrubbing a hand over her face. “We were always really close,” she said quietly, “and then one day she just… started shutting me out. Shutting everyone out. She’d just… lie in bed all the time, staring into space, not saying anything, not eating, just… lying there. My parents tried to get her help but she… just got worse and worse.”

 

Anna dug her fingers in against her ribs, holding tight. “And then after my parents…” The words seemed to stick in her throat, and she swallowed hard and forced herself to continue. “…it was just the two of us, and our old nursemaid, Gerda. So… I was alone. A lot.”

 

“…probably not going to change too much here,” Kristoff said, still not looking at her. “Hans isn’t exactly around too often.”

 

“…I know,” Anna said quietly. “He told me. But… but it’s better to have a little of something good than a whole lot of nothing, you know?” She unwound her arms from around herself and set her hands against the balustrade. “True love is worth the sacrifice,” she said, sighing a little to herself.

 

Kristoff stared at her, one eyebrow raised. “’True love’?” he repeated, incredulous.

 

Anna shot him a glance. “Yes, _true love_ ,” she repeated.

 

“True love,” Kristoff said again, shaking his head a little. “Okay.”

 

Anna huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry, do you have something you want to say?”

 

“You really think what you have with him is ‘true love’?”

 

Anna glared at him a little and sighed. “You sound just like my sister. She didn’t want us to get married in the first place, just because I’d only met him, you know, that night, but _I_ said that…”

 

“ _Wait_.” Kristoff’s voice cut her off, his eyes narrowed in confusion. “You got engaged to a man you just met _that day_?”

 

“…well, yeah,” Anna said. “But anyway, after we’d fallen in love and he’d asked me to marry him, I brought him home, you know, so he could _meet_ Elsa and she could see that I’d be in good hands and…”

 

“…hang on,” Kristoff said, shaking his head at little and staring at Anna. “You seriously mean to tell me that you got _engaged_ to a man you just met _that day_?”

 

Anna rolled her eyes. “I already _said_ that, didn’t I? Anyway, that’s not the _point_.”

 

“Didn’t your parents ever warn you about _strangers_?”

 

“Hans isn’t a _stranger_.”

 

“He was then!”

 

“We didn’t actually get _married_ for three weeks, _okay_?”

 

“Oh, that’s _much_ better,” Kristoff said, shaking his head in disbelief and staring out to the forest. “Three weeks, she says. Right. That’s normal.”

 

“I’m sorry, _Kristoff_ , are you some kind of love expert all of a sudden?”

 

“I wouldn’t get _engaged_ after _one day_!”

 

“It was my birthday!”

 

“What the hell does _that_ have to do with anything!?”

 

“ _Language!”_ Anna yelled, pushing hard against his chest with one hand. Kristoff was too sturdily-built to stagger under her push, or even really move, but he stared at her with wide eyes, rubbing at the space over his chest where she’d pressed her hand.

 

“You sound just like her, you know,” she said in a tight, low voice, turning and starting back down the bridge. “I’m not a naïve little girl.”

 

She scowled at the sound of Kristoff’s heavy footsteps settling behind hers. “Never said you were,” he said levelly from behind her. “Sounds to me like your sister was just trying to look out for you.”

 

“My sister hasn’t cared about me in a long, long time,” Anna ground out, swallowing the harsh burn of tears rising painfully at the back of her throat.

 

Kristoff was quiet for a long moment, coming up to walk beside her, hands tucked into his pockets. Anna tried to regard him out of the corner of her eye, but he was tall enough that she could only see partway up to his shoulder. “Probably not true,” he said finally. “Sounds like maybe she just wanted to be alone.”

 

Anna crossed her arms over her chest and huddled into them as she walked. “Do you have any siblings?” she asked, changing the subject.

 

“No.”

 

“Any family at all?”

 

“No,” Kristoff said flatly.

 

Anna was quiet. “That’s sad.”

 

“It is what it is.”

 

“Hans isn’t your family, then?” Anna asked. “I mean… you said you’d been here for a long time, so…”

 

She started as Kristoff stopped, leveling her with a dark, pointed gaze. “Hans,” he said flatly, “is not my family.”

 

Anna eyed him carefully. “You really don’t like him very much, do you?”

 

“Is it that obvious?”

 

“Why do you work for him, then?” Anna asked, settling her arms at her sides. “You do _everything_ around here, from what I can tell. Why do you do it if he annoys you so much?”

 

Kristoff’s shoulders fell a fraction, and he turned away from her. “I have my reasons,” he said, very quietly.

 

“…I wish you’d tell me,” Anna said, clutching her hands together.

 

“We’re not friends, Anna.”

 

“I know,” Anna said, biting her lip. “But… I wish you’d let me be yours, if nothing else.”

 

She raised her eyes to see Kristoff eyeing her suspiciously.

 

“It’s not a _bad_ thing to have friends, you know,” Anna continued, taking a hesitant step closer to him.

 

“Are ‘friends’ proper?” he asked sardonically, leaning away from her.

 

“Does it matter?”

 

“It probably will.”

 

“Well,” Anna said, taking another step closer, “we can cross that bridge when we come to it.” She glanced to the bridge around them, then back to him with a grin. “Bridge. See. Get it?”

 

Kristoff sighed and shook his head a little, failing to hide the smile that tilted at the corners of his lips. “You’re a strange one, you know that?”

 

“I’ve heard that before. Gerda always called me an ‘odd duck’ when I was little. As opposed to a normal duck, I guess. Do you have ducks?”

 

“Out in the woods, yeah.”

 

“Normal ones?”

 

“As far as I know. We can get some weird ones in if it’ll make you feel more at home.”

 

“See? That’s something a good friend would do right there. I knew you’d come around.” Anna grinned up at Kristoff and held out her hand.

 

Kristoff eyed it warily. “I really do have to get to work, you know,” he said finally. “There are some fences that really need mending.”

 

“And I’m sure they’ll be very happy to see you,” Anna said meaningfully, hand still extended, “once you shake my hand and agree to be friends.”

 

“Anna. Seriously.”

 

“Nope,” Anna said firmly, moving to block Kristoff’s path as he attempted to go around her. “You are not passing over this bridge until you agree to be friends with me. By order of the lady of the house.”

 

Kristoff sighed and glanced at her hand. “What does being ‘friends’ even mean to you?”

 

Anna frowned. “…I hadn’t really gotten that far yet,” she admitted. “I guess… it means we can talk about stuff. And you can show me how to do things I don’t know how to do. Like, around the estate and stuff. In case you need another pair of hands.” She grinned and wiggled her fingers at him.

 

“Do you even know how to do any of that ‘around the estate stuff’?” Kristoff asked with a skeptical look.

 

“Nope! But that’s why you’re going to teach me.” Anna smiled, tilting her head and holding her hand out further. “Please?”

 

“…Hans isn’t going to like it,” Kristoff mumbled, before finally taking her hand and giving it a firm shake.

 

“Well,” Anna said lightly, clasping her hand tightly around his, “he can’t exactly object to my having a _friend_ , now can he?”

 

“He can and he probably will,” Kristoff muttered, still holding on to her hand. “Cross it when we get to it, huh?”

 

“That’s the spirit,” Anna grinned, gently releasing her grasp on his hand. “See? Not so bad, was it?”

 

“Kristoff!” a sharp masculine voice called from the other side of the bridge, and they turned to see a rough-looking man narrowing his eyes as he looked to Kristoff. “You gonna help us mend the fences on the north end sometime today or _not_?”

 

“Coming!” Kristoff called back, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand. “Make sure Eirik has the timber ready, and tell him to do a better job of reconstructing those rails than the bullshit he tried to pull last season if he expects to get paid for it!”

 

The man looked to Anna as she stood beside him, eyes wide as he dropped into a hasty bow. “Uh… Lady Westergard,” the man mumbled, “my apologies for my, uh, compatriot’s language.” He lifted his head to glare at Kristoff.

 

“It’s okay,” Anna said with a wave, suppressing a laugh. “Master Kristoff and I were just finishing our discussion. You can borrow him in just a minute.”

 

“…yes, ma’am,” the man said, quickly straightening and heading back down the path, glancing back to Kristoff with a skeptical eye.

 

Anna turned back to Kristoff with a grin.

 

“I know,” he grumbled, smirking at her. “ _Language_.”

 

“Don’t worry, I’m getting used to it.”

 

“Yeah, well.” Kristoff shrugged, moving past her on the bridge. “Now that we’re ‘friends’ and all, can I get to work before Klaus there decides to push through and mend every fence on the estate regardless of which ones are actually broken?”

 

“Sure, after you walk me back to the house.”

 

Kristoff stopped, fixing her with a flat stare. “Seriously.”

 

“ _Seriously_ ,” Anna repeated, walking airily beside him as they started down the path side-by-side. “It wouldn’t be at all proper for you to just leave me all the way out here to find my way back.”

 

Kristoff sighed, dropping his forehead into his palm as they walked. “I hate you,” he grumbled.

 

Anna raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t think that’s at _all_ proper to say to the lady of the estate, now is it?”

 

“Good thing I’m not ‘proper,’ then.”

 

“And,” Anna said with a grin, bumping his shoulder with hers, “it’s not true, anyway.”

 

Kristoff stared straight ahead, not meeting her gaze.

 

“I’m trying to, okay,” he grumbled.

 

It was difficult to avoid the brilliance of Anna’s resulting smile from the corner of his eye.

 

But he tried. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hans is creepy, film at 11.
> 
> (Remember how I said this fic was going to be really light for awhile? Apparently I lied. Basically, any time Hans is around in it… assume it’s not going to be light. Like, at all.)
> 
> (PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SOME QUESTIONABLE SEXUAL CONTENT AND DUBIOUS CONSENT.)

It was late morning by the time Kristoff and Anna returned to the manor house, the sun nearly overhead, and Kristoff sighed, glancing back to the fields, his brow creased with concern.

 

 

Anna reached over and patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she said reassuringly, “I’m sure they’ll still have plenty of work for you to do.”

 

 

Kristoff spared her a brief, flat stare. “I’m more worried about losing the light,” he said. “With the days getting shorter, we have fewer hours to get done what needs to be done. Just lucky we haven’t had a major freeze of it yet.”

 

 

“Are you short-handed?”

 

 

“We’re always short-handed.”

 

 

Anna bit her lip, absently picking at her cuticles. “I mean…” she hesitated. “I… I could always ask Hans to find more people to help you out there. You know. Take some of the pressure off you.”

 

 

Kristoff smiled humorlessly. “Yeah,” he said. “Good luck with that.”

 

 

His shoulders were strangely rigid again, and Anna frowned a little. “…I wish you would tell me why you don’t like him,” she said, very quietly.

 

 

Kristoff shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Long story,” he said, his voice familiarly gruff.

 

 

Then, much more quietly: “Old wounds.”

 

 

Anna’s frown deepened as a dark cloud settled over his strong features. “Kristoff?”

 

 

He shook his head, shoulders straightening. “Anything else you needed?”

 

 

“…are you okay?” Anna asked, taking a hesitant step closer, hand outstretched.

 

 

Kristoff leaned back and away, frowning a little at her. When she pulled her hand back but stayed close, he sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m fine,” he said, voice just a fraction softer. “Really.”

 

 

“…okay,” Anna said hesitantly. “I just… tell me if something’s wrong, okay? I mean…” She sighed, gesturing to the house. “If there’s… anything I can do to help you.”

 

 

Kristoff stared at her for a long moment, and Anna nearly flinched under the intentness of his gaze.

 

 

“…you do that a lot,” he said finally.

 

 

“…what?”

 

 

Kristoff started to speak before sighing and shaking his head, eyes closed for a heartbeat. “Nothing,” he mumbled. “I need to get to work.”

 

 

“No, what do I do?”

 

 

He descended the stone stairs, hands shoved deep into his pockets, before gruffly calling back over his shoulder.

 

 

“Care,” he said in a rough voice. “When you really shouldn’t.”

 

 

“About him or about you?”

 

 

Kristoff stopped.

 

 

“Either,” he said. “Both.”

 

 

Anna frowned at him as he continued down the path. “He’s my husband and you’re my friend!” she called after him. “So you’re stuck with me!”

 

 

Kristoff stopped long enough to spare her a quizzical glance over his shoulder before shaking his head and continuing away from the house, disappearing down the hill.

 

 

Anna stood at the front door to the manor house for a long moment, fists clenched in her skirts as the sun continued to track its path across the sky.

 

 

\---

 

 

As morning turned to afternoon, afternoon to early evening, and as Anna took to idly wandering the halls of the expansive house, fingers trailing over tapestries and cold stone walls, she was beginning to realize the most difficult part of being a proper lord’s wife.

 

 

It was unspeakably _boring_.

 

 

It was one thing trying to understand how to carry herself, how to sit properly at meals and behave properly… but it was another trying to fill the seemingly-endless hours of the day with little to no available diversions.

 

 

She’d attempted to make the most of it by exploring the long rows of rooms throughout the manor, but found most of them locked, for reasons she couldn’t begin to comprehend. One of the unlocked rooms turned out to be a small sitting room, all polished mahogany furniture and spotless lace, and Anna had managed a solid ten minutes of sitting primly in the large pink-upholstered armchair and staring out the window before she sighed and retreated back to the hallway.

 

 

By mid-day, she had to resist the urge to scream into her braids out of sheer frustration.

 

 

 _Don’t worry,_ a voice in her head that sounded rather irritatingly like Kristoff said. _It’s only for the rest of your life_.

 

 

Anna sighed as she reached the broad double doors to the bedroom she shared with Hans, tugging them open and walking over to the large French windows at the far side.

 

 

In the distance, she could see a small group of men hard at work on the fences near the sheep pasture, hoisting thick wooden rails and shouting orders to each other as they worked to rebuild a break in the fence. She could pick out Kristoff among them even from the distance, standing a solid head taller than the rest of his workers, his hair a soft shine of gold in the early evening light.

 

 

Even though Anna knew he couldn’t see her from so far back, she offered him a friendly wave.

 

 

He seemed to look towards the window for a moment before being called back to the task at hand, and Anna smiled.

 

 

If only he’d let her try to convince Hans into hiring on more hands, she thought, leaning her forehead against the window. Then he’d have more free time, which would probably make him less grumpy, and then they could…

 

 

They could…

 

 

Anna frowned, pushing back from the window.

 

 

They could… what?

 

 

She wrapped her arms around herself, staring out to the field, eyes drifting over the broad expanse of the estate. Hans had already made it clear that she was to “conduct herself properly” — he’d gone so far as to ensure that Kristoff couldn’t even take her riding without his status as servant fully cemented.

 

 

She’d have to ask him about that once he came home for the evening, Anna thought, biting her lip against a worried frown. Obviously there was bad blood between the two… but Kristoff, for all his bluster and obstinateness, was her friend. A gruff friend, unpolished and rough around the edges at the best of times… but a friend nonetheless.

 

 

And it had been so very long since she’d had one.

 

 

Hans would have to understand that. Respect that.

 

 

Kristoff’s words returned to her then, unbidden, unwelcome, unpleasant: _…you really don’t know your husband very well, do you?_

 

 

Anna glanced to the fields, to Kristoff’s back bowed with work as he knelt by the fence, before turning back to the bedchamber, eyes falling onto their marriage bed.

 

 

Well, she thought, frowning a little, she knew _some_ things about him.

 

 

Anna crossed her arms over her chest, taking a step away from the window. And she knew other things about him, too – she knew that he never took sugar in his tea (or, well, hadn’t either time she’d seen him drink it). She knew that he always straightened his shoes when he took them off at night (or at least he did that one time). He liked refined things. He liked the left side of the bed. He liked early mornings. He liked… he liked…

 

 

Anna glanced helplessly around the room, eyes passing over the various accoutrements of the bedchamber she shared with her husband, searching for clues that might tell her anything about him.

 

 

He liked things neat and organized, she knew – the room was always summarily spotless, the furniture polished and dusted, the bed neatly made, the papers on his desk carefully organized and sorted.

 

 

But that, she knew, could also be the work of the industrious maids on staff at the manor.

 

 

Anna sighed, walking over to the tall bookcases running the length of the far wall. She traced gentle fingertips over the spines of the leather-bound volumes on the shelves, each one seemingly well-aged yet uncreased, unread.

 

 

Anna reached up on tiptoe, her eyes scanning the gold-embossed titles. Ovid’s _Metamorphoses._ Boethius’s _Consolation of Philosophy_. Several things in Latin she couldn’t begin to interpret. Marcus Aurelius. Catullus. Saint Jerome.

 

 

 _He likes books,_ Anna thought, continuing along the shelves. _Books by… old dead guys._

 

She shook her head, mentally amending that to “intelligent”.

 

 

Anna frowned as her fingertips caught on a series of slender volumes, their covers well-worn, spines creased. She tilted her head, attempted to read their titles, but the words were faded, the gold leaf flaking, utterly inscrutable.

 

 

She carefully removed the closest book from the shelf. There was a ribbon bookmarker settled into the middle, and she flipped it open, curious as to what her husband had been perusing.

 

 

Anna felt a slow, uneasy turn in her stomach as her eyes glanced over the words, the tips of her ears burning at the vulgar terms laid out in plain typeface. There was an ink drawing at the bottom of the page, a woman’s nude form splayed and open, her limbs tightly shackled to a table, the hand of an unseen figure laid benevolently upon her brow even as her mouth hung open in a silent scream.

 

 

Her fingers shook as she turned the pages, eyes growing ever-wider as she took in the drawings, each more perverse than the last. A naked woman on hand and knee, head bowed, hair falling forward as a boot pressed hard and tight against her bruised back. A girl her age, the black coil of a whip wrapped tight around her throat, her inked eyes wide and glassy, tears struck against her cheeks as a masked man knelt behind her, one hand curved tightly around her bared hip. A man kneeling between a faceless woman’s parted thighs, knife in hand and a soft reverence in his eyes.

 

 

Anna dropped the book to the floor as if she’d been burned, trembling violently from head to foot.

 

 

The pages were marked in a familiar hand, neatly dog-eared and annotated.

 

 

 _Successful_ , one had read.

 

 

 _Relented,_ said another.

 

 

Anna raised her eyes to the remaining books on the shelf, equally-worn, and grazed shaky fingertips over their spines.

 

 

Did she dare…

 

 

Did she even _want…_

 

 

“Some light evening reading, Anna?”

 

 

She started violently, her back slamming up against the shelves as Hans gently shut the door to their bedchamber behind him, raising a curious eyebrow at her.

 

 

“I…” Anna started, forcing herself to keep her eyes from where the book had landed, still open, beside her. “I was just… trying to find something to occupy myself.” She attempted a smile. “It gets… kind of boring here without you, you know.”

 

 

Hans returned her smile, coming to stand before her, curving one gloved hand around her cheek. “I’m not sure anything on my bookshelves will interest you,” he said, lightly tapping her on the nose with one finger, “but we might have a few dusty old fairytales in the library for you. More your speed, I think.”

 

 

“I… couldn’t find the library.” Anna attempted a light laugh that came out far more strangled than she’d intended it. “There are just… so many rooms here.”

 

 

“Third floor,” Hans murmured. He glanced down at the book beside them, and Anna felt her heart seize in her chest.

 

 

“…although I see you’ve found something else to hold your attention,” he said, quirking an eyebrow at her as he leaned down to retrieve the book, glancing at the page it had fallen to and turning it around for her to view. “Planning a surprise, dear wife?”

 

 

Anna stared at the drawing on the page, cheeks burning as she observed the line drawing of a man with a woman kneeling between his legs, her head bowed, criss-crossed lines struck against her bare back, her hands roughly bound with twine.

 

 

“I…” Anna managed, unconsciously pressing a fraction harder against the bookcase. “I… I just wanted to know more about you.”

 

 

Hans closed the book one-handed, the sharp snap echoing throughout the chamber. “Oh?”

 

 

“…yeah. Just… what you like. What… what makes you happy.” Anna dropped her eyes to the toes of her boots, willing her shoulders to stop shaking.

 

 

She started as Hans’s hand came around her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You,” he said simply. “You make me happy.”

 

 

Anna felt a warm rush through her chest, biting her lip as she glanced up at Hans. “I do?”

 

 

“Of course,” Hans said easily, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek before pulling back and loosening his tie. “Few wives would show such initiative.” He reached around her and carefully slotted the book back into its place on the shelf before walking over to the bed, sitting down easily on the edge.

 

 

Anna glanced between her husband and the bookshelf. “Wait, I didn’t…” she said, unease once more blossoming in the pit of her stomach. “I didn’t mean…”

 

 

He didn’t…

 

 

He couldn’t expect her to…

 

 

“We’ll start you off slow,” Hans said, deft fingers undoing his cufflinks and setting them neatly to the side. “I know how eager you are, Anna, but a man can’t expect to keep his toys if he breaks them so easily.”

 

 

“I…” Anna managed, utterly frozen in place. “I…”

 

 

“I think we’ve reached the portion of the evening where you speak only when spoken to,” Hans said thoughtfully, settling back against his hands on the bed. “Hands and knees. Now.”

 

 

Anna hesitated before obediently lowering herself down to the floor, the marble cold against her palms and a fine tremor through her shoulders.

 

 

“Crawl.”

 

 

She crawled.

 

 

“Kneel.”

 

 

She knelt.

 

 

“Beg.”

 

 

She hesitated.

 

 

Hans’s hand came tightly around her chin as she knelt between his legs, his other hand stroking himself through his trousers. “Anna,” he said, the word a rebuke as much as a warning.

 

 

“…please,” she managed, the word a rough whisper. “Please.”

 

 

Hans stroked his free hand through her hair, guiding her down. “I know you can do better than that,” he said gently, running his thumb over her nape, “but I suppose I’ll indulge you.”

 

 

His hand fisted tightly into Anna’s hair as he thrust up deeply into her mouth, holding her fast as she choked.

 

 

“You have had a hard day, after all,” he observed thoughtfully.

 

 

\---

 

 

He kissed her very gently after and handed her a glass of wine from the nearby dinner trolley, and Anna trembled as she took it and knocked back the glass’s contents, barely tasting it.

 

 

“One sips wine, Anna,” Hans said in amusement, buttoning his trousers. “It’s not medicine, after all.”

 

 

Anna was silent, feeling a deep burn across her cheeks as Hans removed the _cloches_ from their dinners and began diligently setting the small table in the sitting area. There had been a knock at the door while she’d been… indisposed, and she’d panicked, attempted to pull away, but Hans held fast to her hair, pushed her down further as a maid’s hesitant voice asked where she should place Lord Westergard’s dinner.

 

 

He’d gestured lazily to the space directly beside them, and Anna had tightly closed her eyes as the maid approached.

 

 

“Thank you,” Hans had said to the maid.

 

 

“Teeth, dearest,” he had said to Anna.

 

 

 _Wifely duties,_ she told herself, her fingers pressing tight to the wineglass in her hands. _Wifely duties_.

 

 

She glanced towards the bookcase, to the well-worn volumes along the middle shelf.

 

 

_It could have been so much worse._

 

She didn’t want to admit the awful stab of fear in her chest at that first knock on the door.

 

 

How frightened she’d been that it would be Kristoff on the other side of it when Hans bid it open.

 

“You like venison, I hope,” Hans said as she walked on shaky legs over to the table.

 

 

“…I haven’t eaten too much of it,” Anna said, sitting down heavily in her chair. “But it’s good enough, I suppose.”

 

 

Hans nodded, slicing the meat on his plate. “We usually have a good store of it, but I’ll have to send a man out to the forest soon enough. We’re a bit low.”

 

 

“A man… you mean Kristoff?”

 

 

Hans eyed her carefully over his plate. “Yes. How was your ride with him this morning, out of curiosity? I do hope he behaved himself.”

 

 

Ducking her head a little against Hans’s scrutiny, Anna nodded quickly, hoping that Hans hadn’t been to see Kristoff in the stables already. “He was a perfect gentleman,” she said.

 

 

“I doubt he was a perfect one, or even approaching halfway serviceable, but go on.”

 

 

Anna hesitated, glancing down at her dinner, fork in hand. “He…” she began, poking at her venison absently, “…I don’t think he likes you very much.”

 

 

Hans laughed, surprising her. “I’m well aware of that. I don’t much like him, either, but he’s dependable enough. Hard working. Simple as anything, but hard working. There’s value to that in a servant.”

 

 

“Did… did something happen between the two of you?” Anna asked hesitantly. “I mean, before?”

 

 

Hans shrugged, sipping his wine. “Kristoff’s always been something of a difficult sort,” he said easily. “Wasn’t particularly fond of following orders even when it was my father handing them down instead of me. The man has something of a chip on his shoulder, Anna. Pay it no mind.”

 

 

“But…” Anna started, and Hans raised an eyebrow at her.

 

 

_…you don’t really know your husband very well, do you?_

 

Anna shook her head, spearing a piece of venison with her fork. “Nothing,” she said quietly.

 

 

She knew him well enough to know that he likely wouldn’t take well to a request for granting Kristoff more help.

 

 

And likely take it even worse if he knew she’d declared him a friend.

 

 

“Meat’s tough,” she mumbled.

 

 

“Don’t talk while you’re eating,” Hans chastised over his wineglass. “I’ll send Kristoff out to the woods later this week, see if he can’t bring in something fresh. He’s a good hand with a bow.”   


 

“He said you’re better with a sword,” Anna said, before she could stop herself, and Hans eyed her curiously.

 

 

“Did you two talk much?” he asked, inspecting her intently over the dinner table.

 

 

“…no,” Anna lied, forcing herself to meet his gaze straight on. “Not really. Not outside of ‘hey, here’s the sheep pasture,’ ‘these are the woods,’ ‘here’s a river,’ anyway. He doesn’t seem to be much of a talker.”

 

 

“Mm,” Hans said noncommittally. “Did you do anything else interesting with your day?”

 

 

Anna glanced to the bookshelf before looking back to her dinner. “…not really,” she said. “I may go up to the library tomorrow. Spend some time there.”

 

 

“Christabel spent many mornings reading, I’m told,” Hans said lightly, even as the name of his deceased wife seemed to hang between them. “Apparently she’d ring the maid for chocolates from time to time.”

 

 

Anna brightened a little at that. “Wait, so I can just ring a bell and the maid will come all the way up to bring me chocolates?”

 

 

“Indeed.”

 

 

“ _Good_ chocolates?”

 

 

“Imported directly from Belgium.”

 

 

Anna smiled. “Well, I think tomorrow just got a lot more promising.”

 

 

“I can procure you some embroidery as well, if you’re so inclined,” Hans continued. “I’ll be gone tomorrow.”

 

 

Anna paused over her meal, fork positioned by her mouth. “Again?”

 

 

“There’s a shipment of furniture coming in from overseas. I’d like to inspect it personally before I send it on to my partners.”

 

 

“…oh,” Anna said softly, placing her fork beside her plate and frowning a little. “I… I was hoping I’d get to spend a little more time with you.”

 

 

“You know I’m gone more often than not, Anna. I’ve made that clear.”

 

 

His voice was firm, stern, and Anna wrung her hands a little in her lap. “I know,” she said quietly. “Can I… come with you one day?”

 

 

Hans took another swallow of wine. “Business is no place for women, Anna. It wouldn’t be proper.”

 

 

 _Proper._ “…I suppose I’m not doing very well at being ‘proper’ so far, am I,” Anna said, offering him a mirthless smile.

 

 

Hans shrugged. “You’ll learn. I’m not concerned.”

 

 

He set down his wine glass. “Not yet, anyway.”

 

 

\---

 

 

Their bedchamber was cold as the night grew darker, as Hans helped her into her nightgown, a beautiful lacy creation from Paris, and took her to bed, the dishes forgotten.

 

 

“But we already…” she said, struggling to speak against his kiss.

 

 

“Oh, Anna,” Hans murmured, taking her wrists in one hand and pinning them above her head. “You bring out the worst in me, I’m afraid.”

 

 

Anna bit her lip and closed her eyes as he roughly took her for the second time in their marriage bed. It was less painful than the first, but his fingers were bruising tight around her wrists, and the fingernails of his free hand scored abstract lines into the soft flesh along her side.

 

 

He finished with a shudder, holding her tight, and she nearly cried out from the painful pressure of his fingertips.

 

 

He rolled off her afterward, eyeing her as she excused herself to the washroom attached to their bedchamber, and Anna roughly rubbed a wet cloth between her legs and steadfastly avoided her reflection in the pier glass over the sink, avoided the reddened marks from his fingernails.

 

 

 _It’ll get easier_ , she told herself, biting hard against her lip. _It’s just because it’s new. It’ll get easier. It will._

 

 

When she returned to bed, Hans draped an arm over her waist, pulling her flush against him, his lips warm against her ear.

 

 

“You’re learning very well,” he said softly, and Anna felt a tremor up her spine — from fear or excitement, she couldn’t be sure.

 

 

“I…” she began, laying her arm along his, “I definitely like this better than the other thing.”

 

 

The arm at her waist tightened, and she gasped at the feel of his arm pressed close to the reddened lines along her side.

 

 

“You’ll like,” Hans said, voice still soft, lips still brushing against her ear, “what I tell you to like. If I want to take you slow. If I want to tie you to the bed and drive into you. If I want you on your knees so I can fuck your mouth like a saltwater whore. You’ll do it. And you’ll like every minute of it. Understand?”

 

 

A knot of fear rising high and tight in her throat, Anna could only nod helplessly.

 

 

The arm at her waist relaxed, warm fingertips stroking over her belly. “Good girl,” Hans murmured. His fingers slid lower. “I think you’ve earned a bit of attention.”

 

 

“…you don’t like sugar in your tea, right?” Anna asked, voice weak as she stared into the middle distance even as Hans slipped his hand between her legs.

 

 

“…I don’t,” Hans said, fingers still questing.

 

 

“And…” Anna’s breath hitched in her throat. “…you like the left side of the bed.”

 

 

“I’ve always slept on the left side.”

 

 

“Do you like any sports?”

 

 

“Polo and cricket.”

 

 

“Favorite color?”

 

 

“Red.”

 

 

She shook against him as he ran his fingers over her, and there was a scream of protest somewhere in her mind that died as he whispered “ _dear wife_ ” in her ear.

 

 

 _Wifely duty,_ she thought, _wifely duty._

 

But she couldn’t still her tongue as the fear bubbled up within her chest.

 

 

She asked him if he’d had any childhood pets as he roughly pressed into her.

 

 

His favorite food as she trembled and shook.

 

 

His favorite book on a feigned broken cry as he nudged at her temple, kissed her cheek and she felt only a sharper pain deep within her.

 

 

On and on, as the moon rose higher and higher in the cold night sky.

 

 

“I have a question for you now, Anna,” Hans murmured as he held her close to his chest. “What do we say when someone gives us something?”

 

 

Her eyes were blank, something dark and dull deep within her chest.

 

 

“…thank you,” she murmured, voice utterly empty.

 

 

\---

 

 

She was still awake when Hans rose in the morning, the sky still dark, and she closed her eyes more tightly, turned her face in against the pillow and snored lightly.

 

 

She counted to a hundred after he closed the door behind him, felt three hundred rapid heartbeats in the space between the numbers.

 

 

Barely taking the time to throw on her robe, Anna rushed through the hallway on slippered feet, following the familiar path out to the stables.

 

 

 _He can’t help_ , a voice deep within her said.

 

 

 _There’s nothing to help_ , another voice responded, sharp and angry. _You’re his wife. This is what’s expected of you._

 

 _It’s too much,_ the first voice said.

 

_Then you’ll just have to be stronger for it._

 

The barn door slid open easily, the lanterns still burning as the horses turned to regard her from their stalls.

 

 

“Fancy meeting me here again, huh?” Anna said, laughing humorlessly as she made her way down to Sven’s stall. “Hey, buddy,” she said quietly, rubbing his muzzle. “Kristoff’s not around, huh?”   


 

Sven neighed and stamped his foot, and Anna patted his neck apologetically. “I’ll bring you some carrots later, boy. I promise. It just…” She swallowed hard and clutched tightly to the stall door with one hand. “It’s been a bad night.”

 

 

Sven neighed and pushed against her, and she smiled a little in response. “Okay, yes, it’s better now that you’re here, of course. But Hans…” Her smile faded, and she closed her eyes and blindly pressed her face in against Sven’s neck. “He just… he wants things from me. So many things. And I… I don’t know if I can do them all.”

 

 

She was quiet, raising one hand up to rub along the horse’s neck. “He keeps hurting me, Sven,” she said, voice little more than a whisper. “I don’t think he means to. I know he doesn’t mean to. And I’m trying…” She sniffled against his neck, closing her eyes more tightly. “I’m trying to be a good wife, Sven. I really am.”

 

 

Her shoulders shook as she began to cry, tangling her fingers in Sven’s mane. “He never takes sugar in his tea,” she managed around a hiccupping sob. “He likes cricket and polo. He likes Italian shoes. He likes being on time. He likes venison. He likes… he likes…”

 

 

Sven nudged gently against her as she clung to him and cried.

 

 

As Kristoff stood silent and still in the doorway to the small chamber at the back of the stables, his hair mussed, taking one hesitant half-step forward before closing his eyes and stepping back into the shadows.

 

 

\---

 

 

Anna woke with a stiff neck in her bedchamber, the blankets on the bed awkwardly draped over her, and no idea as to how she’d gotten there.

 

 

Groaning and clutching one hand to her neck, she pushed the blankets off and glanced to the window. Still early morning, from the look of things. At least she hadn’t been out of it for too long.

 

 

Anna frowned and experimentally sniffed at her nightgown, grimacing a little at the strong smell of horse. So she _had_ been in the stables before first light. The last thing she remembered was clinging to Sven and crying, before finally drifting off…

 

 

No. Wait. There was something else…

 

 

Anna glanced to the doors to her bedchamber and distantly remembered strong arms lifting her easily, as if she weighed no more than a child, remembered being carried, remembered something soft and warm beneath her back.

 

 

…she hadn’t seen him in the stables, but had he…?

 

 

Anna glanced quickly to the window again.

 

 

Early morning.

 

 

She might still be able to catch him.

 

 

She rushed through her morning toilette, hastily tugging a wet comb through her auburn hair and paying so little attention to her dress that she accidentally buttoned herself into it backwards on the first try, but soon enough she was dressed and racing down the hallway, down the stairs, across the courtyard and down the hill to the stables.

 

 

Where once again the beautiful white mare Hans had assigned to her stood tacked and ready, her mane and tail perfectly combed, staring at her with wide, brown eyes.

 

 

Anna glowered at the mare, fisting her hands tight at her sides and stalking over to the barn doors. “We are not _doing_ this again, Kristoff! I told you that…”

 

 

Her protests died on her lips, arms going limp as Kristoff stood beside Sven, the sturdy Belgian eyeing her unhappily as Kristoff straightened his bridle and inspected the saddle on his back.

 

 

“Sleep well?” Kristoff asked, not looking at her.

 

 

“I…” Anna started, staring at him. “What are you doing?”

 

 

“Always have to double-check this one’s tack,” he said easily. “He’s a bastard on a good day when it comes to taking a saddle.” Kristoff grinned as Sven neighed and headbutted him a little. “I know, I know. _Language._ ”

 

 

“No, I mean…” Anna shook her head, pressing her hands to her temples. “What are you doing with… all of this?” She gestured between Sven and the barn door.

 

 

Kristoff took hold of Sven’s reins, leading him down the walkway until the two were standing in front of her. “Thought you said you wanted to ride,” Kristoff said off-handedly, stroking a large hand over Sven’s neck.

 

 

“I…” Anna started, reaching out to pet Sven’s nose. “I thought that… that wasn’t ‘proper’.”

 

 

“Neither is you falling asleep against my horse in your nightgown, but that didn’t seem to stop you.”

 

 

Anna flushed, pulling her hand away. “…I thought I dreamed that.”

 

 

“If you did, we both did. Sven would barely let me get near you. Rare that he’s that protective, but I guess he likes you.”

 

 

“Well, at least one of you does.” Anna frowned a little, remembering. “…Kristoff?”

 

 

“Yeah?”

 

 

“…I woke up in my bed.”

 

 

“Isn’t that where you’re supposed to wake up?”

 

 

“No, but…” She hesitated, biting her lip and staring at him. “How did I get there if I fell asleep in the stables?”

 

 

Kristoff was quiet, steadfastly avoiding her gaze as he seemed suddenly preoccupied with straightening and re-straightening Sven’s tack. “Well,” he said quietly, “maybe one of the stablehands saw you were having a rough night and decided to make sure you made it back to the house safely.”

 

 

Anna suppressed a smile as a sudden rush of warmth spread through her chest. “Maybe, huh?”

 

 

Kristoff glanced to her. “Maybe.” He reached over to rub Sven’s ear. “And maybe,” he continued, “that stablehand could get in a hell of a lot of trouble for being in a lady’s bedroom in the middle of the night, so if that lady could keep quiet about it and give sleeping in beds instead of on horses a shot like a normal person, he’d probably appreciate that.”

 

 

“Probably?”

 

 

“Probably.” Kristoff shrugged, leading Sven past her. “But what do I know.”

 

 

Anna crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head a little, walking alongside him. “A lot, I think,” she said quietly. “I think you know a lot.”

 

 

“Husband tell you that?”

 

 

“No, my husband thinks you’re… what was it… ‘simple as anything’.”

 

 

Kristoff grinned at her. “Been called worse,” he said lightly. “By him, actually. I’ll take ‘simple’ for today.” He glanced to the mare. “You ready?”

 

 

“Don’t you have work to do?”

 

 

“Yeah.”

 

 

“Then what…” Anna trailed off, looking from him to the mare, brow furrowed in confusion.

 

 

Kristoff patted Sven’s flank before kneeling down beside the mare, cupping his hands together, raising his eyebrows at Anna in question.

 

 

“I could get you the mounting block,” he said, crooking a grin at her. “But this is faster.”

 

 

Anna rolled her eyes and bit back a smile as she steadied one hand against Kristoff’s strong shoulder, one foot braced against his hands, and she yelped in surprise as he pushed her up and onto the mare.

 

 

“Sure you’re good astride?” he asked, quickly mounting Sven and taking the horse’s reins in hand.

 

 

There was a twinge of pain between her legs, and Anna winced, bracing her hands against the saddle.

 

 

“Anna?” Kristoff asked, and she could hear the faintest note of concern in his familiarly-gruff tone.

 

 

“…I’m okay,” Anna said, shifting into a slightly more comfortable position. “I’ve got this. Don’t worry about me.”

 

 

Kristoff eyed her for a long moment before nodding. “I’ve gotta say,” he said offhandedly, “you keep surprising me a little. Hard to do that.”

 

 

“How do I keep surprising you?”

 

 

He stared at her, eyes gone deep and inscrutable.

 

 

“…you’re stronger than you look, I think,” he said finally, averting his eyes and stroking Sven’s mane.

 

 

Anna was quiet, images from the previous night flashing before her eyes. “…I think you’re wrong about that,” she said, very quietly. “I care too much, remember?”

 

 

Sven nickered and huffed irritably, obviously eager to get moving. “Easy, buddy,” Kristoff murmured, patting his broad neck. He turned his attention back to Anna and shrugged. “Not necessarily a bad thing. Someone’s got to, I guess.” He gently touched his heels to Sven’s flanks and set the horse into a slow, easy gait down the path.

 

 

Anna spurred the mare on, settling in beside him. “…I think you do more of that than you think you do,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him.

 

 

“What’s that?”

 

 

“Care.”

 

 

Kristoff rolled his eyes a little. “If you say so.”

 

 

“I do,” Anna said, grasping the mare’s reins in a light hold. “And I think I’m right.”

 

 

“And I think I’m right about you being stronger than you look,” Kristoff said, looking ahead. “So here we are.”

 

 

“Here we are,” Anna said softly, smiling a little at him. “Where are we going, anyway?”

 

 

“Out to the field.”

 

 

“Oh?”

 

 

“You said you wanted to learn all of that ‘around the estate stuff,’ remember? First lesson: mending a fence. If you don’t kill yourself, you might even graduate to chopping firewood.”

 

 

“…has anyone ever killed themselves mending a fence?”

 

 

“Not to my knowledge, but you’re kind of special.”

 

 

Anna grinned and leaned into the saddle, before a thought occurred to her. “…but what about Hans?” she said quietly. “You said that he’s always watching.”

 

 

Kristoff was quiet, clutching the reins a little tighter. “…I’ll worry about him,” he said finally. “You worry about not killing yourself.”

 

 

“With a fence?”

 

 

“With anything.”

 

 

Anna smiled softly as they settled into a companionable silence, the only sound between them the gentle clop of hooves.

 

 

“…thank you,” she said after a long moment, biting her lip and staring down at the mare beneath her.

 

 

Kristoff raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

 

 

Anna hesitated. “…for being my friend,” she said finally. “Thanks.”

 

 

“We’re still not really friends, you know,” Kristoff said.

 

 

“You totally agreed to be friends.”

 

 

“Still takes time to be _real_ friends.”

 

 

Anna glanced to him, smiling a little as he held her gaze. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said, raising a defiant eyebrow at him.

 

 

She felt an increasingly-familiar turn of warmth in her chest as Kristoff returned her smile.

 

 

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging a little and turning his gaze back to the path. “Neither am I.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as a writer, there are times when you intend for a story to go in one direction but the characters clearly want it to go in another, and you have to decide whether to take the wheel and force it back on course or let them tell the story they want to tell.
> 
> Kristoff and Anna wanted this chapter to go a certain way, and I’ve gotta trust that they know what they’re doing.
> 
> Enjoy, guys.

It was somehow surprising and not all at once, how easy and natural the silence between them was as they rode towards the field, the quiet of early morning broken only by the sounds of gentle hoofbeats and the occasional click of Kristoff’s tongue as he spurred Sven on. It was a clear day, just a hint of late-autumn warmth bearing off the morning chill, the faintest breeze stirring the last few turning leaves in between the thick bands of conifers on the mountain.

 

It was, Anna realized, shifting a little in the saddle, the most content she’d been since arriving at the estate.

 

“Doing okay over there?” Kristoff’s voice cut into her thoughts, and she smiled at him.

 

“Yeah,” Anna said, twining the reins into one hand and gazing out past the curving slope of the hill, all dewy orange-gold in the early morning light. “Just… thinking.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Wanna know about what?”

 

“Kind of figured you were going to tell me anyway.”

 

“Oh really?”

 

“You’re not all that subtle, Anna.” He was smiling at her as he said it, teasing mischief in the turn of his mouth, and Anna couldn’t help but return it.

 

“Well fine, smart guy, why don’t _you_ tell me what I was about to say?”

 

“I was gonna go with ‘hey, Kristoff, I’m going to stop trying to get you fired or killed and be a _little_ normal’ but, I mean, that’s probably just wishful thinking.”

 

“…hey, I’m _normal_.” Anna frowned a little, glancing down to herself. “Okay, well… normal- _ish_.”

 

Kristoff laughed, shaking his head. “You’re nowhere near normal. Not even _ish_. But that’s why…” He glanced to her, then quickly away, pale cheeks tinged with pink, features turning familiarly stony and closed off. “…you’re interesting,” he finished, the teasing warmth in his voice replaced by something heavy and inscrutable.

 

Anna stared at him curiously, tugging on the mare’s reins and moving her just a fraction closer to Kristoff and Sven on the path as she scrutinized his face. “That is so not what you were going to say,” she said, the corners of her lips turning up into a mischievous smile.

 

“It _so_ was,” Kristoff responded, rolling his eyes. “Now get back over there, it’s not safe to travel this close together.”

 

“…no.”

 

“’No’ what?”

 

“ _No_ ,” Anna said, grinning as she reached up to gently flick his ear. “Tell me what you were going to say.”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Kristoff said gruffly, staring ahead.

 

“You’re gonna make me guess, aren’t you?”

 

“Do what you want.”

 

“Please?” She drew the word out, batting her lashes at him and leaning to one side in the saddle so she could bump his shoulder with hers.

 

Kristoff didn’t shy away from the contact, but he didn’t smile his familiar teasing grin, either, and Anna felt her heart sink.

 

“…should probably get to work,” Kristoff mumbled. “Bad enough if he finds out about this without the fences on the north end being finished by the end of the day.”

 

_He_. The word settled in dark and heavy between them, a warning reminder, and Anna settled back into the saddle, wincing slightly at the sharp bite between her legs.

 

_Conduct yourself properly_ , she thought, a duller ache blossoming somewhere deep within her chest as she pulled the mare further away.

 

Silence grew between them, lightness and comfort replaced by a low, uneasy tension.

 

“…I’m happy like this,” Anna said after a moment, very quietly, keeping her eyes firmly trained on the gleaming-white neck of the mare beneath her. “That’s what I was going to say.”

 

Kristoff was quiet, and Anna allowed herself a brief glance to him out of the corner of her eye, heart clenching at the flash of pain across his face.

 

“Anna,” he said, voice tight, “don’t.” 

 

They didn’t speak again until they reached the field.

 

—-

 

By the time they reached the broad pasture dipping low beside the tangled forest wall, a line of dark gray clouds had begun to roll in from the west, spreading out high above the tree line.

 

Anna frowned a little, eyeing the clouds as she slid awkwardly from the saddle and to the ground. “Is it going to snow?”

 

Kristoff shrugged as he dismounted and stroked a hand over Sven’s flank. “Probably. Once we head this late into the season it snows pretty much every day. Gets boring after awhile, honestly.”

 

“Oh,” Anna said quietly, still staring up at the clouds. “It doesn’t snow all that much down in the valley.”

 

She frowned a little. “It was always… kind of fun when it did.”

 

Anna closed her eyes for a moment, remembering. She’d been as graceless on snow and ice as on anything when she was little, whereas Elsa had been utterly natural, gliding across the frozen pond near their house on the skates Father had brought them from one of his trips up north, all fluid, easy motion.

 

Anna, for her part, would take wobbly, teetering steps, arms extended, biting her lip in concentration as she peeked out from the endless layers of soft wool Gerda had insisted on swaddling her in, before inevitably tumbling to the ice in a heap of flailing limbs and fluttering cloth.

 

But then Elsa would laugh from above her, a sweet thing, not harsh or mocking at all (although perhaps just a _little_ amused), and pull her to her feet, hold her hands and move backwards as she pulled Anna along, showed her how to place her feet, and before long they’d be skating easily side-by-side, girlish laughter filling the cold morning air…

 

A loud clatter by her feet pulled Anna roughly from her thoughts, and she jumped back a little, heart seizing in her chest.

 

Kristoff winced, glancing down to the small pile of wooden rails between them. “Uh… sorry,” he said awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

 

“No, it’s okay,” Anna said quietly, crossing her arms over her chest and glancing up at the clouds again. “Just… just remembering.”

 

“About your sister?” Kristoff asked lightly, tugging on a thick pair of work gloves before tossing Anna a pair.

 

Anna turned the thick leather gloves over in one hand, running the fingers of the other over the palms long since worn smooth by work. “…maybe.”

 

“You do that a lot.”

 

“You’ve mentioned.”

 

“Just saying.” Kristoff shrugged and began inspecting the split-rail fence in front of them, running one hand over the top rail. “Have you written to her since you’ve been here?”

 

“I haven’t even been here a week.”

 

“Still.” He frowned a little as he pushed against the rail and it gave slightly in the middle. “If I had a little sister who’d just gotten married, I’d at least want to know she’s okay.”

 

“…especially if she barely knew the guy,” she heard him grumble under his breath, just barely loud enough to be heard, and Anna pursed her lips in frustration.

 

“Well maybe _you_ would,” Anna said irritably, gathering her skirts in one hand, “but my _sister_ probably hasn’t even noticed I’m gone – she’s always had a _really_ busy schedule of staying in her room and not bothering to talk to anyone.”

 

“Still might like to know you haven’t been murdered or something.” Kristoff turned from the fence and raised an eyebrow as Anna set her foot to the bottom rail and began to climb. “…what are you doing?”

 

Anna ignored him, lips set in a tight line, eyes narrowed in concentration as she climbed up to the top rail. “If you’re going to yell at me,” she said, “I at least want to be able to be face-to-face with you.”

 

“I’m not yelling at you. And I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

 

“You’re _distracting_ m…” Anna’s words turned into a short scream as the fence suddenly gave way beneath her, sending her crashing hard to the ground in a pile of thick wooden rails.

 

Her vision swam, the earth seeming to tilt at a series of odd angles as the weight over her chest suddenly disappeared, broken rails flying out of view, a pair of large, gloved hands framing her face, ghosting over her shoulders, and someone was yelling her name over and over and…

 

“Anna, goddamn it, would you _say_ something!?”

 

Her vision finally focused on Kristoff’s pale, frightened face above her, his hands tight around her shoulders.

 

“…language,” she said finally, offering him a hint of a weak smile.

 

He stared at her for a long moment before dropping his forehead into his palm. “What did I tell you about not killing yourself?” he said, voice tight.

 

“…not to?”

 

“ _Exactly_.” Kristoff sighed and extended his hand, helping pull her to her feet. “Are you okay?”

 

Anna rolled her shoulders experimentally, wincing slightly at the dull ache of an inevitable bruise along her spine. “…I think so,” she lied.

 

“Very convincing. Do that with your husband when he asks you how you got covered in bruises and he might even let me live for a day or two _before_ throwing me to the wolves.”

 

Anna bit her lip against the sudden hot burn of tears rising to her eyes, glancing to the pile of broken wood beside them. “I…” she started, fisting her hands in her skirts. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t do it on purpose…”

 

Kristoff sighed again, scrubbing a hand over his face. “…I know you didn’t,” he said finally. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. Just… don’t do that again, okay?”

 

“Don’t worry,” Anna said, offering him a weak smile. “The next fence I break I’ll rebuild all by myself, okay?”

 

Kristoff was quiet for a moment, staring at her with deep, inscrutable eyes. “…not the fence,” he said finally. “Don’t…” He shook his head, moving over to the fence and gathering up the broken rails in his burly arms.

 

“Don’t _scare_ me like that again,” he said, voice low, eyes firmly trained on the rails even as Anna stared at him.

 

“…I’m sorry,” she said again, much more softly. “Are… are you going to make me go back?”

 

To an empty house, to locked doors, to the slow, endless tedium of another quiet, lonely…

 

“Just put your gloves on and let’s get this thing rebuilt,” Kristoff said, hoisting up the rails and eyeing her carefully. “Are you warm enough in just that dress?”

 

There was a growing chill in the air, even as the morning deepened, but Anna crossed her arms over her chest, keeping her face carefully stoic even between the cold and the slowly deepening bruises. “I’m fine.”

 

Kristoff quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at her before setting down the broken rails, shrugging out of his coat, and dropping it unceremoniously onto her shoulders. “Stay there,” he said, hoisting up the rails again, muscles flexing beneath his sweater. “I’m just going to take these down to the shed and I’ll head right back. Try not to kill yourself before I do, okay?”

 

Anna gingerly pulled his coat around herself as he started down the path, running her fingers over the soft, well-worn fabric. It was huge, much like Kristoff himself, reaching nearly down to her knees… but the lingering chill of the morning had already begun to disappear within its warmth.

 

Anna offered Kristoff’s retreating form a lingering smile as she tugged on her gloves.

 

—-

 

The earlier tension between them disappeared into the easy rhythm of work once Kristoff returned. Truthfully, for all her bravado, Anna had been worried about how involved fence-building might be, but it turned out to be surprisingly easy – especially, she imagined, glancing to Kristoff with a smile, with an experienced pair of hands along.

 

Beginning the rebuilding process was the most difficult part – Kristoff had to re-dig the fence posts, splitting through the rocky ground at the point of a pickaxe before breaking in with the post digger.

 

“Can I help with that?” Anna had asked, watching as Kristoff swung the pickaxe down, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a trickle of sweat at his temple even in the cool morning air.

 

“You can help with the rest of it,” he said, kneeling down and inspecting his work. “You may be stronger than you look, but I’m not sure you have the shoulder strength for this part. Not a personal thing, I promise.”

 

She’d wanted to argue that he could at least let her try, but the fact that he was still allowing her to help at all after her, well, _accident_ was promising enough, and she’d settled for standing off to the side and watching with curious eyes as Kristoff swung and broke, broad shoulders flexing beneath his shirt.

 

He had _very_ nice shoulders.

 

Anna had flushed down to the tips of her toes at that stray thought, completely unbidden, and coughed, straightening her work gloves as she avoided Kristoff’s curious gaze to her from over his pickaxe.

 

Once the post holes were dug and the posts installed far enough apart to allow for movement, the rest of it was easy enough – they’d heft one of the heavy chestnut rails between them, Kristoff balancing and bearing most of the weight as Anna bit her lip in concentration and guided the rail into place. Before she knew it, the morning had faded into early afternoon, the sun peering out from around the spread of snowclouds, and the fence she’d fallen through stood perfectly reconstructed before them.

 

Anna grinned and nudged Kristoff’s shoulder with hers as they stood side-by-side before the fence. “See? Pretty handy, aren’t I?”

 

Kristoff crossed his arms over his chest and smiled at her, shaking his head a little. “Gotta say,” he said, “you’re a lot better at this than I expected. You’re sure you’ve never done this before?”

 

“Nope!” Anna said brightly, rocking back on her heels. “I’m just pretty good at surprising people.”

 

Kristoff surprised her by laughing and reaching over to straighten his coat on her shoulders with one hand. “Well,” he said lightly, eyes warm even as they avoided hers, “that’s true, anyway.”

 

“Kristoff!”

 

Kristoff raised an eyebrow at the sound of the gruff voice from down the path, a sturdy looking workman walking up with a battered leather satchel in hand. “Kitchen girls sent me up here with a lunch for you,” he said, eyeing Anna as he handed the satchel over. “Probably didn’t know you were up here fooling around instead of working.”

 

Kristoff ignored him, taking the satchel. “Thanks. How’s the south end going?”

 

“Well enough. Should have everything mended and ready by the weekend. Might be nice to have a hearty meal to look forward to at the end of it,” the man said, eyeing Kristoff meaningfully.

 

Kristoff sighed, handing Anna the satchel. “Pantry’s low on meat, I take it.”

 

“Try ‘empty’. The boys and I’ll cover repairs if you’ll bring something back tomorrow.”

 

Anna carefully opened the satchel as Kristoff and the man continued talking, her eyes brightening at the sight of a small loaf of bread and a pair of crisp apples settled within. She wordlessly extracted one and handed the other to Kristoff with a smile.

 

“Gonna be hard to get out to the forest if Hans is being, well, himself about all the repairs being done,” Kristoff observed, glancing to the thick woods off at a distance.

 

“Word is he won’t be home until tomorrow night – been delayed in the valley. Not sure for what.”

 

Anna let out a yelp as the apple in her hand slipped from her grasp, falling to the ground with an unpleasant thump. She grimaced as she retrieved it, fingers prodding unhappily at the large, spreading bruise along its skin.

 

“…I mean, that’ll definitely make it easier,” Kristoff said, barely glancing at Anna as he plucked the bruised apple from her hand and wordlessly replaced it with the untarnished one in his, “but you know he has to ‘approve’ any hunting trips.”

 

Anna smiled softly at him as she bit into her apple, unconsciously moving just a fraction closer to him.

 

“Come on, Kristoff, it’s late autumn. Shouldn’t take even you more than a few hours’ time to fell a deer.”

 

“Even me, huh?” Kristoff smirked, shining his apple on his shirtfront before taking a bite. “Like you’d know a nock from a broadhead if it were shoved up your…”

 

“ _Language_ ,” Anna said around a mouthful of apple.

 

Kristoff grinned and reached over with one hand to roughly muss her hair. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, feistypants.” He sighed, glancing back to the man. “Fine. But if I’ve struck out by mid-morning it’s gonna have to wait until _his majesty_ gets back. Not worth the fight.”

 

The man eyed Kristoff as he grinned at Anna, as Anna straightened her mussed auburn locks with her free hand. “…yeah, don’t think Lord Westergard would take kindly to anything happening on his property without his permission,” he said, fixing Kristoff with a meaningful stare.

 

Anna glanced to Kristoff as he straightened, shoulders rising and going rigid. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said gruffly.

 

“Best for you if you do,” the man said, glancing at Anna once more before turning and heading back down the path.

 

Anna stared after him with a quizzical gaze. “…what was that about?” she asked, turning to Kristoff.

 

Kristoff stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head and retrieving the satchel. “Nothing,” he said, jerking his head towards the far end of the pasture. “Come on. I think we’ve both earned a bit of a break.”

 

He began to cross the pasture with long-legged strides before Anna even had a chance to protest.

 

Before she could even fully understand what that protest could possibly be, even as it seemed to burn against her lips.

 

—-

 

It was an altogether pleasant lunch, all things considered – there was a small wedge of cheese and two flasks of water in with the bread and apples, and Anna munched happily from where she lay sprawled in the grass, Kristoff tall and sturdy beside her, Sven grazing at a short distance away from them.

 

“You trust him not to run off while we’re working?” Anna asked, slicing off a small piece of bread.

 

Kristoff nodded and swallowed, reaching for one of the flasks. “He’s not going anywhere. He’s gotten too fat and happy in the stables. Especially now that he keeps getting all those carrots and sugarcubes from _someone_.” He raised a meaningful eyebrow at Anna.

 

Anna grinned. “You’re just mad because he likes me more.”

 

“Well,” Kristoff said lightly, folding his arm over his knee and looking out to the pasture. “Can’t really blame him for that one, can I.”

 

Anna’s grin grew wider as she pushed up onto her elbows. “I’m sorry, did you just _compliment_ me?”

 

“Must’ve been a mistake. Long day. Too much sun.”

 

“Kristoff, it’s barely been sunny at all today.”

 

“Too cold, then.”

 

“Do you want your coat back?”

 

“Nah.” Kristoff stretched a little, looking back to her. “You probably need the warmth more. Not as many places for it to go on you.”

 

“Are you warm enough, though?” Anna asked, scooting closer and scrutinizing his face.

 

“I’m fine, don’t worry. I’m used to the cold.” He shrugged. “Stables aren’t exactly the warmest place on the estate, and I grew up in them.”

 

Anna was quiet as she settled in next to him, their knees almost brushing, both watching as Sven continued to graze at the far end of the pasture. “Will you tell me about it?” she asked softly.

 

“About what?”

 

“About… you,” Anna said, biting her lip.

 

“Not much to tell.”

 

“That’s definitely not true.”

 

Kristoff quirked a humorless smile at her, glancing down as her knee just barely ghosted along his. “…I’ll make you a deal,” he said finally. “I’ll tell you something about me every time you write a letter to your sister.”

 

Anna’s smile slowly faded, her eyes dropping to her lap as she moved a fraction away from him. “That’s not fair.”

 

“Doesn’t have to be a long letter.”

 

“Kristoff.”

 

“Anna.” He sighed, propping his head up against his hand as he regarded her. “I’ll give you this one for free,” he said quietly, “if you answer one thing for me.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“What’s your sister’s name?”

 

Anna stared at him. “…what?”

 

“You’ve never said it,” Kristoff said evenly. “It’s always ‘my sister’. Almost started thinking that _was_ her name.”

 

_Elsa_ , Anna thought, slowly pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her chin against them.

 

_Elsa, please come out…_

 

_Elsa, please just **talk** to me…_

 

_Elsa… Elsa, something **happened** …_

 

“…Elsa,” she said, the word little more than a whisper. “It’s Elsa.”

 

From the corner of her eye, she could see Kristoff raise one hesitant arm before coughing and running a hand through his hair, nodding. “It’s a nice name,” he said finally.

 

“Better than ‘Anna,’” she said quietly, offering him a weak smile.

 

Kristoff stared at her. “…I think I like ‘Anna’ better.”

 

“You’d be the first.”

 

“Don’t think that’s half as true as you think it is,” Kristoff said, stretching again. “But anyway.” He canted his head towards Sven’s grazing form. “Wanna hear how I ended up with this loser?”

 

“I think he’d probably ask the exact same question,” Anna said, allowing herself a mischievous grin.

 

“Probably,” Kristoff admitted, grinning back at her, eyes turning soft as he looked back out to the pasture. “I was nine. It was my first time assisting with a birth in the stables.”

 

“At _nine_?” Anna asked, eyeing him incredulously.

 

Kristoff was quiet for a long moment. “…there was someone else who did it before,” he said, very quietly, “but he… he was gone by that point.” His jaw was firmly set, shoulders rigid. “So I took over.”

 

He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t know if even he could have done a decent job with it. Something ruptured. Blood everywhere. Managed to get the foal delivered, but by the time the stablemaster got down to the barn, the mare was already gone.” Kristoff crossed his arms over his chest, still staring out to the pasture. “Almost lost the foal, too. He was weak as anything, couldn’t even stand until the second day. The stablemaster wanted to…” He eyed Anna carefully. “Well, anyway, I just… couldn’t let it happen. So I pretty much lived in the stable with him for awhile. Got him some goat’s milk, fed him every time he started complaining.”

 

Kristoff grinned a little, shooting Sven a fond gaze as he began trotting over. “And he complained a _lot_.” His smile slowly faded, and he fell quiet. “Still wasn’t sure he’d make it through the night.” He settled back onto his hands. “But he did. Hans’s father was furious, since he’d lost a mare and had a sickly orphan on his hands…” Kristoff laughed humorlessly to himself. “…not that it was the first time. But they gave him to me. Said I could do whatever I wanted with him. We’ve been together ever since.”

 

Sven nickered as he trotted up, bending down to push his head against Anna’s and snuffle against her hair.

 

“Or we _were_ until he got taken in by a pretty face,” Kristoff said, rising to his feet and pushing against Sven’s shoulder. “After all we’ve been through, Sven, seriously? Bad luck, buddy, she’s married.”

 

Anna laughed, straightening her wayward locks. “I still love you best, Sven, don’t you worry,” she said with a grin, taking Kristoff’s proffered hand and standing. She stroked Sven’s nose as she offered Kristoff a warm smile. “You’re a really good friend, Kristoff,” she said quietly.

 

Kristoff shrugged. “To him, maybe.”

 

“To both of us, I think.” Anna gave Sven’s nose a firm pat before turning her attention fully to Kristoff. “What time do we set out tomorrow?”

 

Kristoff raised an eyebrow at her. “…for what?”

 

“For the hunt… thing. That you are doing. In the woods. With… stuff.” Anna brightened. “Are you going to use a bow? Can you show me how? Can I shoot an arrow?”

 

“Wait, _wait_ ,” Kristoff said, holding his hands up. “I’m sorry, when did you get invited along?”

 

“Just now,” Anna said airily, waving away his protests. “Where you go, I go. That’s how friendship works.”

 

“…yeah, I’m pretty sure you just made that up.”

 

“Oh hush. Early morning again, I’m guessing? You know, I’ve _never_ liked mornings at all, can we do something around brunch at some point for a change of pace?”

 

“ _Anna_ ,” Kristoff said meaningfully, leaning against Sven. “No.”

 

“Yep. Sorry.”

 

“Have you ever been near a bow in your life?”

 

“Nope,” Anna said, gathering up the remains of their impromptu picnic, “but that’s why you’re going to show me.”

 

“You’re barely going to be able to nock an arrow to my bowstring, let alone draw it.”

 

“…I don’t even know what that means.”

 

“Yeah, I figured.” Kristoff sighed, eyeing Anna carefully. “You gonna write your sister that letter?”

 

Anna’s hands stilled around the satchel, and she glanced up to Kristoff, who was watching her with serious, questioning eyes.

 

“…yes,” Anna said finally, cinching the drawstring tight. “I will.”

 

There was a warm spark in Kristoff’s eyes, and Anna felt her lips turning up into a smile.

 

“Six,” he said, smirking at her.

 

“ _Six_?” Anna repeated, incredulous.

 

“Deer are around the most in the early morning. Easier shot.”

 

“I didn’t even know there _was_ a six in the morning until I got here,” Anna grumbled, rising to her feet.

 

“I mean, if that’s too early…” Kristoff said lightly, taking Sven’s reins in hand and starting back towards the fence.

 

Anna glowered at him, hands firmly set on her hips. “I’ll see you at _five_ , Kristoff Bjorgman!” she yelled after him.

 

She couldn’t help but smile as he laughed and shook his head.

 

—-

 

By late afternoon, they’d finished repairing the rest of the fences on the north end of the pasture.

 

By early evening, they’d ridden back to the stables, just close enough on the path for Kristoff to eye her curiously without saying anything.

 

By late evening, Anna found herself back in her bedchamber, the left side of the bed neatly made, cold and unoccupied.

 

There was a fresh sheet of paper in front of her along the mahogany desktop, one of the fountain pens Elsa had given her in the stationery set clasped in a vice-grip between her slender fingers.

 

_I have no idea what to write_ , she thought.

 

_Just write_ , the internal voice which had grown to sound increasingly like Kristoff answered back.

 

Taking a deep breath, Anna set the pen to the page.

 

_Dear Elsa,_ she wrote.

 

That part was easy enough (although she still let the words dry for far longer than strictly necessary).

 

The silence of the chamber was broken only by the endless tick of the tall grandfather clock in the corner, the sweep of the pendulum, and Anna leaned back in her chair, her eyes never leaving the paper.

 

_Dear Elsa,_ she thought.

 

_I’ve been thinking about you a lot. How things used to be._

 

Dear Elsa.

 

_Part of me wonders if maybe it could have finally been different if I hadn’t left._

 

Dear Elsa.

 

_It’s beautiful here, but sad somehow. Lonely._

 

Dear Elsa.

 

_I have a friend now. I don’t know if I’ve ever really had one before. I think you’d like him. I think… I think I do, too._

 

Dear Elsa.

 

_…I want to come home._

 

_I can’t._

 

Anna started at the cold slip of tears along her cheeks, as twin damp spots appeared on the paper in front of her, and before she knew what she was doing, the pen in her hand quickly scrawled over its surface.

 

_I’m sorry._

 

She was crying as she quickly pushed the paper into a haphazard tri-fold, as she slotted it into the envelope, as she dripped the thick red sealing wax from Hans’s desk onto the fold, as she scribbled down her sister’s name, her childhood address.

 

She wrapped her arms around her thin frame, missing the earlier warmth of Kristoff’s coat around her shoulders.

 

Anna glanced to the spotless face of the grandfather clock, standing silent sentinel over her, and she could fairly feel Hans’s presence in the empty space around her.

 

True love, she reminded herself, in a soft inner voice that seemed to be fading faster and faster as the days turned.

 

True love was turning out to be far lonelier than she’d anticipated.

 

She rose from the desk chair, her legs seeming to move of their own accord down a familiar path.

 

Hans would be home tomorrow.

 

She could at least try to enjoy the rest of tonight.

 

—-

 

A light snow had begun to fall as Anna hefted the bulky pot in her arms, awkwardly making her way down the path to the stables, the hood of her cloak continually falling into her eyes.

 

Maybe this hadn’t been the best idea, she thought, shifting and attempting to push aside the hood and succeeding only in tangling her feet in the rest of the cloak.

 

Whether through luck or increasing familiarity, she finally stumbled across the barn, shoving open the door with her shoulder and a loud grunt, flopping down hard onto a nearby hay bale as Kristoff stared at her from across the barn, a knife and small length of wood in his hands.

 

“…hi?” he said, raising an eyebrow at her.

 

Anna pulled herself to a sitting position and hefted up the pot, setting it down hard at her feet. “I brought soup,” she said simply. “The kitchen maids tried to give me this really tiny bowl of it but I kept insisting that I was hungrier than that bowl and hungrier than the _bigger_ bowl until they finally got fed up and just gave me the whole thing.” She grinned and patted the pot with one hand. “Hope you’re hungry.”

 

Sven poked his head out from his stall, neighing loudly, and Anna retrieved a small bundle of carrots from her cloak. “Of _course_ I remembered you, Sven,” she cooed, pulling a carrot from the bundle and tossing it to him.

 

“Don’t expect me to start spoiling you like that, buddy,” Kristoff said sardonically, lifting the soup pot in one burly arm and bringing it over. “She’s the nice one here.”

 

“Listen to him, Sven,” Anna said, tossing Kristoff a smirk over her shoulder. “Always pretending to be such a tough guy. But I think we both know he’s all talk.”

 

“You’re not exactly convincing me to take you with me in the morning, you know,” Kristoff said, heading into the back of the barn, disappearing from sight as a metallic rummaging sound echoed down the line of stalls. He returned with a pair of battered tin bowls and spoons. “Sorry,” he said, offering her an apologetic shrug. “Not used to entertaining much.”

 

“No kidding,” Anna grinned. She held the bowl in her hands as he ladled her a generous helping of soup. “Thanks.”

 

He shrugged, dipping the ladle back into the pot. “Ladies first and all that.”

 

“See? _All_ talk,” Anna repeated, smiling at him over the edge of her bowl.

 

Kristoff forewent the spoon entirely, taking a long draught directly from the bowl before glancing to Anna sheepishly and reaching for his spoon. “Uh, sorry,” he mumbled. “Force of habit. Usually kind of eat-and-run around here.”

 

Anna gave him a soft smile before setting her spoon to the side and taking a long sip from her own bowl, raising an eyebrow at him.

 

Kristoff’s smile was warm as he moved to sit by her feet, his back to the haybale she was seated on.

 

When his shoulder pressed up against her knee, he didn’t move away.

 

Neither did she.

 

—-

 

The rest of the night passed in their familiar companionable silence. Kristoff had attempted to teach Anna how to whittle, but after she somehow managed to get her knife stuck _in_ the wood, they’d defaulted back to conversation.

 

“Did you write your sister?” Kristoff had asked, glancing up at her from his position on the floor.

 

“…kind of,” Anna said, turning away slightly before Kristoff nudged her.

 

“What’s ‘kind of’?”

 

“…it wasn’t… very long,” Anna mumbled, forcing herself to look away from Kristoff’s inquisitive gaze.

 

Kristoff had shrugged. “Gotta start somewhere.” He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “At any rate, I guess that means I have to take you with me tomorrow.”

 

Anna smiled, resting her elbows on her knees. “I guess so.”

 

“Wish I had a bow with a smaller draw weight on it, but we’ll figure that out when we get to it, I guess. I’m not sure you even _weigh_ sixty pounds – I can’t imagine how you’ll be able to draw it.”  

 

“Hey, you’re the one who keeps telling me I’m stronger than I look.”

 

Kristoff leaned his head back, offering her a crooked grin. “True,” he said quietly. “Very true.”

 

They’d said very little after that, as Kristoff had pulled his carving knife from the soft wood and continued whittling, the soft scrape of wood shavings and the fragrant scent of pine somehow calming. Before she knew it, Anna’s head was heavy, her eyes falling shut as she curled up tight, resting her head back against the barn wall.

 

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when a soft weight settled over her. She opened her eyes the narrowest fraction to see Kristoff’s coat draped over her, Kristoff himself standing by Sven’s stall, head bowed, hands braced against the stall door.

 

Anna felt her heart turn over in her chest at the sight of his hunched posture, but she huddled closer under the coat even as she longed to move towards him.

 

Sven nickered within the stall, pushing his head against Kristoff’s.

 

“I know, buddy,” Kristoff said quietly. “I know.”

 

Sven seemed to whinny a question, and Kristoff stroked one hand over the horse’s broad neck.

 

“Because I can’t make sure she’s safe,” he said, almost too low to hear. “Least I can do is make sure she’s warm.”

 

The words seemed to burn into her, twisting and turning in her chest as Anna closed her eyes more tightly and turned her face in against Kristoff’s coat. She distantly heard him wishing Sven goodnight, distantly heard the slow, heavy sound of his footsteps as he headed towards the small bedchamber at the back of the barn, quietly closing the door behind him.

 

Anna curled in more tightly on herself, Kristoff’s coat warm and comfortable around her. It smelled like him, horse and cedar and pine, roughspun and wild.

 

It smelled like home.

 

Anna opened her eyes, staring out into the barn, to the low burn of lamplight even as she pulled Kristoff’s coat closer.

 

_Dear Elsa,_ she thought distantly.

 

She didn’t know what else to say.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter fought me every. single. step of the way. In the end, I decided to cut it into two parts rather than try to fit in all of the plot elements that have to come in at this point of the story. With any luck, I’ll have Chapter 7 to you guys by the end of the week and we’ll really start into our transition to the second half of the story.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, all of you. I can’t tell you how much it means to me, especially when I’m pushing through a frustrating chapter like this one.

The first crimson-dark rays of morning began to rise over the barn, and Anna woke slowly, the air around her thick with the scent of fresh hay and cedarwood, something warm and soft wrapped tight around her, and she groaned and turned her face more firmly against the fabric.

 

While in their childhood, in the Before, Elsa had always been bright and enthusiastic even at first light, Anna had never been an early riser at the best of times. She was slow and gradual, all half-opened eyes and protesting muscles, auburn hair disheveled and spread like a tangled flame over a drool-dampened pillow.

 

She wasn’t a particularly easy sleeper, either. She’d kick and tangle her way into the blankets, roughly push the sheets off the bedcorners, toss and turn and somehow wind up pressed flush against the left side of the bed when she’d gone to bed lying firmly on the right.

 

And then there were the dreams.

 

She’d always had them, to one extent or another. An ill sister who sobbed into the nights wasn’t particularly conducive to a restful night’s sleep.  

 

But those dreams had been mostly innocuous, even as they unsettled.

 

Unlike the dreams she’d had since arriving at the estate, all tumbling scenes of dark shadows, wicked blades dripping red, the sharp cut of agonized screams, and her dream-self pushing through wild winds and driving snow, pursued by something dark and malevolent she couldn’t hear, couldn’t see…

 

Truthfully, she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since the night before her wedding.

 

Since before…

 

Anna opened her eyes a fraction, scrubbing one hand over them as she squinted into the low lantern-light still illuminating the barn, and she frowned a little, thought back, tried to remember the dreams from the night before.

 

Instead of fear and shadows, she distantly remembered gentle hands and warmth, remembered dreaming of sheltering trees, of swaying grass, of dappled sunlight, of hearth and home.

 

She’d slept well.

 

She’d slept… better than she’d slept in ages.

 

Maybe that was the trick, Anna thought with a wry grin, rolling out some of the tension in her neck that had accumulated from sleeping more or less upright all night. She just had to spend the rest of her marriage sleeping out in the barn and she’d be wide-awake for the rest of it.

 

Her smile faded a little as she recalled what ‘the rest of it’ so often seemed to entail, a dull ache throbbing along her side, between her thighs, and Anna ducked down further into the warm fabric draped over her.

 

Kristoff’s coat, she remembered, rubbing the thick, well-worn wool between her fingertips, breathing it in, and she allowed herself another small smile, glancing to the back of the barn, to his small bedchamber.

 

For all his gruff exterior… he was always looking out for her, somehow.

 

And, she admitted, pressing her cheek to the soft wool and gazing out to the barn, it was increasingly comforting to be around him, in ways that seemed to warm her from the inside out, spreading outward and down to her toes and fingertips.

 

Comforting and, she thought, thinking to the bedchamber she shared with Hans, to his absent but ever-felt presence… somehow frightening all at once.

 

Dangerous.

 

Anna swaddled herself more tightly into Kristoff’s coat until only her eyes peeked out above his collar.

 

_We’re friends_ , she thought, biting her lip and staring out at the line of stalls along the path. _And this is what friends do. We help each other. We’re there for each other._

 

_It doesn’t have to mean anything._

 

Anna jumped slightly at the sound of a door opening at the back of the barn, and she ducked even more deeply into the coat, breath and heart seizing high in her throat as Kristoff appeared, barefoot and shirtless, yawning widely and scratching his chest. His hair was sleep-mussed, eyes still hooded and tired even as he stretched and padded over towards Sven’s stall.

 

Anna attempted to avert her eyes even as she felt the warm burn of a blush rising to her cheeks. It wasn’t as though she’d never seen a shirtless man before – she was _married_ , after all, and she’d seen Hans’s… well, _everything_ … but this was… it was… _he_ was…

 

Kristoff’s bare skin was golden in the lantern light as he carefully turned the nearest flame up, his shoulders seemingly even broader without shirt and coat draped over them.

 

Anna’s blush deepened as she closed her eyes and adopted an extremely pronounced snore.

 

“Morning, buddy,” she heard him say quietly, followed by Sven’s answering nicker. “Gotta get off to an early start of it today.”

 

A questioning whinny.

 

“No, you’re not coming this time. It’ll be easier to go on foot.”

 

An indignant, protesting snort.

 

“I’ll put you out in the pasture before we leave so you can stretch your legs, I promise. And don’t you give me that look, you know Anna will bring you something to eat later. She’ll…”

 

Kristoff’s words trailed off, and Anna could hear wood creaking as he leaned hard against the stall door. “…she’ll take care of you.” Then, even more quietly, “…she cares so much, that one.”

 

Something warm and soft blossomed deep within Anna’s chest, and she snored more loudly, the sound fading into a choked snort as the coat wrapped around her began to slowly slide down against the hay bale she rested on.

 

_Nonononono…!_ Anna thought in a panic, attempting to gather the coat back to her even as she tumbled to the floor in an awkward heap, staring up at a very confused Kristoff and Sven.

 

“…uh… good morning?” Anna offered with a sheepish grin, the coat draped partway over her head, sleeves tangled around her.

 

“…morning,” Kristoff said slowly, arching an eyebrow at her. “…what are you doing?”

 

Anna averted her gaze from the broad expanse of his chest and coughed, untangling herself from his coat and drawing it up in her arms. “I just, uh… thought you might… need this.” She kept her eyes firmly trained on her toes as she flailed one arm out, coat in hand. “I mean… I thought you might be cold. Without… anything. On you. Or, well, half of you. The half that is… nothinged. Not that it’s a _bad_ nothing, it’s actually a very nice nothing… not that I’m _looking_ or anything. because that would… that would _definitely_ be a something and a _not-good_ something and… you know…”

 

Anna wasn’t sure it was physically possible for her to blush harder as she finally raised her eyes to meet Kristoff’s, his own widening in sudden understanding as he glanced down to his state of undress and hastily grabbed the coat from her.

 

“I…” he managed, his own cheeks turning crimson in the lamplight. “Yes, I… uh… I’ll do that. Clothes. Right. Yes.” He ducked his head and moved quickly to the back of the barn, hesitating in the doorway to his chamber. “Sorry, that was… not that I… just… just stay there for a minute, okay?” He disappeared into the chamber, closing the door tightly behind him.

 

Anna allowed herself to stare after his departed form as Sven offered up a whinny that sounded uncannily like a laugh behind her.

 

“Nobody asked you,” she grumbled, folding her arms over her knees and dropping her forehead against them with a sigh.

 

—-

 

Kristoff returned a few moments later, dressed haphazardly in his usual roughspun work shirt and pants, still barefoot even as he held a pair of well-worn boots together in one hand.

 

“…sorry again about…” he mumbled, avoiding her gaze as he leaned up against the barn wall and tugged his boots on. “…we don’t… usually have… you know. Around here.”

 

“’You know’?”

 

“’Proper’ ladies,” Kristoff said, curving his fingers into quotation marks.

 

“…oh.” Anna bit her lip. “I thought we were kind of past all the proper stuff. At least between us.”

 

Kristoff stared at her. “As long as you’re married to him, we’re not,” he said finally.

 

Anna was quiet, drawing her knees closer to her chest and staring down at her skirt as the words hung between them, solemn and heavy with meaning.

 

Finally, Kristoff sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You’re sure you want to come along this morning?” he asked. “Hunting’s not exactly glamorous. And it’s all luck. We could be up in the tree blind for an hour or half a day.”

 

Anna offered him a mirthless smile, stretching her legs out. “Wow, so I’ve got a choice between spending all day in a giant, empty house with nothing to do or sitting up in a tree with you.”

 

“Tough call.”

 

Anna rose to her feet, absently straightening a wrinkle in her skirt. “…not really, actually,” she said, very quietly.

 

Kristoff stared at her for a long moment before nodding, almost imperceptibly. “Just need to grab my gear,” he mumbled, avoiding her gaze. “I’ll be right back.”

 

Anna watched him go, her hands folded against her skirt, lip held tight between her teeth.

 

It was becoming harder and harder not to follow.

 

—-

 

“So how does this work?” Anna whispered, squinting into the thick band of trees laid out before them.

 

“It works,” Kristoff responded in a rough undertone, “by you _not talking_.”

 

Anna huffed and leaned back against the rough wooden rail lining the small platform, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked out to the trees.

 

He’d been right about it not being glamorous. They’d shared a pleasant enough walk to the forest, the sun rising red and orange and gold all around them, walking just close enough for their shoulders to brush had Kristoff’s bow not been slung over his, a heavy barrier of propriety between them.

 

“So you’re good with this thing, huh?” Anna had asked, reaching over to run her fingers over the polished wood.

 

“I’d like to think so,” Kristoff shrugged, making the arrows in the quiver slung across his back rattle. “Been using it most of my life.”

 

“What’s it made of?”

 

“Yew wood.”

 

“…I… would… what?”

 

“…no, _yew_. Like the tree.”

 

“…oh.”

 

“Can be tough to find the good stuff to make them these days,” Kristoff continued, reaching one hand up to rest over the bow. “This one… this one’s been around for awhile.”

 

His eyes were distant as he stared out towards the forest. “It was my father’s.”

 

It was the first open mention he’d ever made of his family, and Anna was quiet as she stared up at him. “…did he work here, too?” she hazarded, moving a bit closer.

 

Kristoff glanced to her, features going familiarly distant and closed off, and Anna sighed.

 

“You promised you’d tell me more about yourself,” she said softly.

 

Kristoff stopped, avoiding her gaze as he wordlessly pulled the bow from his shoulder.

 

“Oh fine,” she sighed, raising her eyes to the heavens in mute supplication. “I ask him a question and he decides to shoot me. See, this is why I hate mornings.”

 

“Come here,” Kristoff said quietly, running his fingers over the top limb of the bow.

 

Anna crossed her arms over her chest as she took a step closer, eyes widening at the carefully-scored lines and symbols etched into the wood. She searched her memory, tried to remember where she’d seen the symbols before. “…runes?” she said finally, reaching out to gently touch the wood with questing fingertips.

 

“Names,” Kristoff said quietly. “As a reminder.” He pointed to one set of runes. “That’s me there, see? And above…” His fingers stilled on a neatly-carved set of runic lettering. “That’s my father.” He was quiet. “My grandfather’s above him. Thing’s needed a lot of work over the years, but it’s dependable as anything.”

 

“…what was your father’s name?” Anna asked, glancing up to Kristoff. He was very close, shoulders tight with tension, and she ached to brush her fingers over them in comfort.

 

“…Eivind,” he said finally. “It was Eivind.”

 

The name seemed to hang between them, somehow harsh and raw, and Kristoff pulled the bow back and hoisted it up onto his shoulder, avoiding Anna’s curious gaze.

 

“…my father was Agdar,” she said quietly. “He’s… he’s been gone awhile now.”

 

“…mine too.” Kristoff’s voice was tight, and Anna ached to hear it.

 

“I bet he’d be very proud of you,” Anna said, pressing her hands tight to her sides to keep them from reaching, from touching. “For… for who you are now.”

 

Kristoff shrugged, a little harshly, turning to stride down the path towards the forest. “He’s been dead for almost fifteen years,” he said in a rough voice, “so I guess we’ll never know.”

 

The silence that had grown between them was raw and thick with tension, and Anna hadn’t attempted to break it, even as she wrapped her arms tightly around herself against the morning cold.

 

She’d been heartened when Kristoff had stopped, shrugged out of his coat, and draped it over her shoulders in what was becoming a familiar gesture.

 

“…you’ll be cold,” she murmured as he carefully fastened the top button, not looking at her.

 

“Don’t worry about me,” he responded, and offered her a hint of a weak smile that she felt settle somewhere deep into her chest.

 

They’d made their way into the woods as the sky turned brilliant orange and pink, Kristoff leading her off the short path and into a light tangle of briars and fallen logs that left Anna gathering up her skirts in one hand and attempting to balance through the underbrush. After a short walk, they arrived at a towering oak, its branches nearly bare in the late-autumn cold, a set of rough wooden planks nailed in a makeshift ladder along the side.

 

“Come on,” Kristoff had called back to her roughly, making short work of the climb and settling high above on a small wooden platform hidden behind a tangled thicket of branches. Anna sighed and followed, hoisting herself up and gingerly easing her way up along the planks by her fingertips.  

 

“You’re sure this is safe?” she called up to Kristoff, continuing her climb.

 

“Wouldn’t have put you on it if it wasn’t,” she heard him respond, and she smiled a little to herself.

 

The thrill at having made it to the top of the platform had faded quickly when she realized that hunting mostly consisted of her sitting in an awkward cross-legged position and staring at an endless line of trees while Kristoff knelt, utterly still and silent, arrow nocked and at the ready.

 

“…I’m starting to see why you don’t do this too often,” she mumbled, resting her head back against the rail as Kristoff shot her a flat glance.

 

“Remind me to find something more interesting for us to do next time,” Kristoff said on a sigh, absently thumbing at the nock on his arrow.

 

Anna felt her heart turn over pleasantly in her chest, and she didn’t bother to keep the smile from her face. “Next time, huh?”

 

“What I said.”

 

“Guess we’re officially friends now then, huh,” she grinned.

 

Kristoff raised an eyebrow at her. “Thought we both knew that already.”

 

There seemed to be a slight tinge of pink across his cheeks in the early morning light as he said it, and he avoided her curious gaze, focusing intently on his bowstring.

 

“Kristoff,” she said after a moment, and it sounded far softer, gentler than she’d thought it would.

 

“Don’t,” Kristoff said, voice very quiet, not looking at her.

 

Anna nodded and drew her knees up to her chest, not quite understanding the push of tears at the corners of her eyes.

 

The morning wore on in silence, as the sky began to lighten, as a loud chorus of birdsong erupted all around them, interrupted only by the occasional snap of a twig or the rustle of something in the underbrush.

 

She heard the pull of Kristoff’s bow before she saw it. Anna’s eyes widened as she followed his line of sight to a beautiful doe standing between the pines at the edge of the small clearing, tawny-colored and serene, pawing gently at the ground as her large ears swiveled to and fro in search of danger.

 

She seemed utterly oblivious to Kristoff’s sturdy form beside her, to the arrow nocked and drawn close to his cheek in preparation for the shot.

 

Anna’s heart seemed to seize in her chest, and she quickly ducked her head down against her skirt, eyes closed tight. What had she expected, after all? That he’d find a deer and ask it how its day was going? This was how these things worked. This was… this was how they had to work.

 

There was a pause, a stillness beside her for a moment, then the sound of a loosed arrow, a sharp impact, and Anna bit her lip as her stomach seemed to rise to her throat.

 

There was a soft touch at her knee, and she started, glanced up to see Kristoff looking down at her.

 

“…come on,” he said, gently nudging her shoulder. “Change of plans.” He rose and started towards the ladder.

 

“I…” Anna began, carefully averting her gaze from the edge of the clearing. “…I really don’t want to go down there right now.”

 

“Suit yourself. Might want to think about coming down before nightfall, though. Wolves and all.”

 

“Kristoff,” Anna sighed, crawling to the edge of the platform before inadvertently glancing down.

 

Her eyes widened as she noticed a distinct lack of deer, wounded, dead, or otherwise… and Kristoff’s arrow lodged into the rough bark of one of the nearby pines.

 

She glanced to him, a question in her eyes.

 

He was quiet, but didn’t turn away. “Missed,” he said.

 

Anna stared at him curiously. “…she was only a few yards off.”

 

Kristoff stared at her for a long moment. “Guess I’m a bad shot then,” he said finally, starting down the ladder.

 

Anna was silent as she started down after him, moving carefully. “I think,” she called down in a quiet voice, “you’re a better shot than you think you are.”

 

“Why’s that?”

 

_Because you’re a better everything than you think you are_. The words seemed to burn on her tongue, and she bit them back as she continued to descend.

 

“Nothing,” she said quietly.

 

—-

 

The sun had risen to mid-morning height as Kristoff led Anna through the woods, carefully guiding her over fallen trees and under low-hanging branches.

 

“So where,” Anna began, stepping carefully over a tangled twist of briars that caught at her ankle, “are we going now?”

 

“You’ll see,” Kristoff said, staring intently into the foliage. “I figure hunting’s out for now, but we can at least salvage the day a little.”

 

After what seemed like an endless push through the dense woods, they finally reached a broad, open clearing fringed by tall, dusky pines and spruces. In the center stood a tall stack of square haybales, with a set of well-worn and weathered targets pinned neatly to their fronts.

 

Kristoff lowered his bow from his shoulder, glancing to Anna before nocking an arrow, drawing back to his cheek and releasing, driving the arrow dead-center into one of the targets.

 

“Better shot than you were letting on back there, I’m telling you,” Anna said, crossing her arms over her chest and grinning at him until he unceremoniously pushed the bow into her hands. “…wait, what?”

 

“You wanted to shoot an arrow, remember?” Kristoff said with a shrug, retrieving another arrow from the quiver on his back. “Here’s your chance.”

 

Anna stared at the bow with wide eyes, tugging at the string with her fingers. It didn’t budge. “Ah…” she started. “…yes. Yes I did want to do that. But… Kristoff, I don’t think I can even _lift_ this thing.”

 

“You’ll be able to lift it fine; it’s drawing that’ll probably be the problem.” He inspected the arrow in his hand before reaching past her to nock it and set it on the arrow rest. “I asked around yesterday afternoon to see if anyone had anything lighter, but I’m the only one who’s technically allowed to hunt out here.”

 

“…you and Hans,” Anna murmured.

 

Kristoff was quiet. “…yeah,” he said finally. “But no one had anything that would be usable for a first-timer, anyway, so here we are. I’ll help you, don’t worry.”

 

Anna took a deep breath. “…okay,” she said. “Okay.” She lifted the bow a bit helplessly. “…how do I, uh, start?”

 

“Well, loosen your hand on the riser, for one, it’s not going to bite you.” Kristoff hesitated before laying his hand over hers, gently loosening her fingers’ death grip on the bow. “Hold it between your thumb and your forefinger here and just rest your fingers along like this… you don’t want too much weight on the bow.”

 

“It’s pretty heavy,” Anna said, frowning a little.

 

“You get used to it. Now hold it out straight…”

 

Anna attempted to hoist the bow in her left hand, only for her arm to quickly drop under the weight.

 

Kristoff sighed, running a hand over his face. “I knew it,” he said. “You’re going to be way too overbowed.”

 

Anna grit her teeth, hoisting the bow again. “No,” she insisted. “I can do this.”

 

“Anna…”

 

“You’re the one who keeps telling me how strong I am, right?”

 

Kristoff was quiet, watching as she struggled to raise his bow. “You’re probably the strongest person I’ve ever met, Anna,” he said quietly. “Sometimes being strong just means letting other people help you.”

 

Anna’s hands stilled on the bow, and she raised her eyes slowly to meet his.

 

He didn’t look away, even as he folded his arms over his chest.

 

“I never really got that before you,” he said simply.

 

Anna said nothing.

 

She wasn’t sure she could around the growing lump in her throat.

 

“…do you trust me?” Kristoff asked after a moment.

 

Anna could only nod, forcing her eyes to the bow in her hands.

 

Her eyes widened as Kristoff moved then, one large hand curling warmly over hers on the riser, the other taking her free hand in his. Her back was flush to his chest, all warmth and nearness, and her cheeks burned as her heartbeat began to knock a rapid tattoo in her chest.

 

“Here,” he said, placing her fingers along the bowstring. “This one above the nock, these two below it.” One of his arms was stretched out along hers, the other curved close as he held her and the bow between them.

 

“…is…” she managed, her voice sounding weak and breathless even to her own ears, “…is this right?”

 

She didn’t know if she meant her form or the situation as a whole.

 

“…I have no idea,” Kristoff responded, voice strangely inscrutable.

 

She wasn’t sure which he meant, either.

 

“Now draw back…” He pulled their clasped hands back at the bowstring. “Aim down… about six inches below the target… there you go…”

 

Anna stared ahead to the target, a few yards down. “…what if I miss?” she asked.

 

“You won’t miss.”

 

“But what if…”

 

“Then you try again.” Kristoff’s voice was close to her ear, his nearness almost overwhelming.

 

“Now… take a deep breath.”

 

She breathed.

 

“And _loose_.”

 

She dropped her fingers from the bowstring, eyes widening as the arrow landed right beside Kristoff’s in the center of the target.

 

“Hey!” Anna yelled excitedly, tilting her head back to grin at Kristoff. “Not bad for a first shot, huh?”

 

“Not bad for any shot, feistypants,” he said, helping her lower the bow and staring with her at the target. “Perfect entry.”

 

“I had a lot of help on it, though,” she said meaningfully, hesitating before stroking her thumb lightly over the back of his hand. “…thank you.”

 

Kristoff’s cheeks turned a dark crimson, but he didn’t pull away. “I, uh… I’ve still got a few more arrows left. You know. If you want to practice some more.”

 

There was a question in his voice, and Anna recognized it for the potential escape it was.

 

He’d let her decide when to loose the arrow.

 

He’d let her decide when to put a stop to… to…

 

_It’s dangerous,_ a nagging voice within her insisted. _You’re a married woman. This is **beyond** improper. It’s  **madness.** _

 

But there was a second voice behind it, a soft one, a gentle one.

 

One that couldn’t stop thinking of how very warm it was in Kristoff’s arms.

 

How safe it felt.

 

She’d have to decide one day, she knew.

 

But for now…

 

“Give me another arrow,” Anna whispered, unconsciously pressing a fraction closer to him.

 

—-

 

They ran through the dozen arrows in Kristoff’s quiver at least five times before he’d finally needed a rest. Anna hadn’t managed to successfully draw the bow on her own, but Kristoff had promised to find her a bow with a lower draw weight that she could use.

 

“In a pinch, it wouldn’t be hard to make one, either,” he said with a shrug as they reached the barn, Sven trotting over from the pasture, his heart in his eyes as he saw Anna. “If you still want to.”

 

Anna bit her lip and rocked back against her heels a little. “…I think I’d like to,” she said. “I… I had a lot of fun.”

 

“Yeah,” Kristoff said quietly, glancing out to the fields. “…so.”

 

Anna raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “So?”

 

“…so Hans still isn’t home.”

 

“…doesn’t look like it, no.”

 

“And, uh, the kitchens probably aren’t going to be too thrilled with me when they find out that I didn’t bring back any venison for them.”

 

“…probably not, no. Where are you going with this, out of curiosity?”

 

Kristoff sighed, awkwardly rubbing one hand over the back of his neck. “So, I… have some work to do out in the fields before nightfall, but if you wanted to… get something for dinner and swing by the barn later… I mean. I’ll be there. If you want.”

 

“…if I want, huh,” Anna said, smiling softly. “What about what _you_ want?”

 

Kristoff stared at her for a long moment. “…what I want usually doesn’t matter much around here.”

 

“It matters to me.” She took a step closer eyeing him curiously. “Kristoff?”

 

He glared back at Sven as the horse pushed hard against his lower back with his muzzle, eyes insistent as he nickered and gestured towards Anna.

 

“No one asked you,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes, I want you there. Okay? Happy?”

 

“Well in that case…” Anna grinned. “…I guess I’ll see you for dinner.”

 

She rolled her eyes fondly as Sven happily whinnied and pushed in between them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in two days. I have no idea what the hell I’m even doing anymore. This will NOT be a regular thing, that I can promise.
> 
> For this chapter, uh, let me just say in advance how sorry I am. Especially for the fact that it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better.
> 
> (Well, okay, there’s a little bit of better next chapter. But after that… you think this one is sad? Just wait.)
> 
> Stay with me here, guys. I promise it’ll be worth it in the end.

The sunset that evening was every bit as lovely as the sunrise had been, all fire-reds and oranges slowly fading in the light of a rising moon.

 

Anna watched the swirl of color from the window in her bedchamber, her forehead pressed up against the cold glass as the sun dipped below the treeline and she wondered at her next move.

 

Kristoff would be waiting for her by now, she knew. With the light fading fast, he’d likely have already finished his work in the fields and returned to the barn, all warmth and lamplight and soft, sweet hay.

 

_Yes, I want you there._

 

Something stirred in Anna’s chest at the memory of his words, all warm comfort and the tender embrace of being _wanted_.

 

She sighed and turned her cheek in against the windowpane. There was a bite to it, the glass winter-cold against her skin.

 

Hans had wanted her, too.

 

Once.

 

But the moonlit gardens by the theater in town seemed so far away, a distant, dusty memory long past and forgotten.

 

An increasingly painful one, as time wore on.

 

Suppressing another sigh, Anna pushed away from the window and walked over to the ornate dressing table beside the armoire, absently stroking her hands over the polished cherrywood surface and thinking only of yew-wood beneath her hand, of her fingers warmly sheltered and curled beneath much larger ones.

 

Her fingertips flexed tight against the tabletop. When she glanced to her reflection in the pier glass, her eyes were unreadable.

 

Even to herself.  

 

_Stay,_ a small voice inside her whispered. _Stay here and be a good wife._

 

_Go,_ another voice, slightly louder, urged.

 

Be a good… a good…

 

_…friend,_ Anna thought, staring with unblinking eyes to her reflection. _We’re just friends._

 

The thought made her heart clench painfully in her chest, for reasons she couldn’t begin to comprehend. Biting hard against her lip, Anna pushed back from the dressing table and moved to sit down heavily at the mahogany writing desk nearby. Her fingers seemed to find pen and paper of their own accord, her hand moving fast and light over the page.

 

_Dear Elsa_ , she wrote, and something tumbled over in her chest, confused and pained as she formed the letters.

 

_I thought I was happy._

 

An angry, frustrated hand drew a thick line through the words and began anew.

 

_Dear Elsa._

 

_I don’t understand what’s happening._

 

_Dear Elsa._

 

_I wish I could talk to you._

 

_I wish you were here._

 

_I miss you and I wish you were here because I’m scared and I don’t understand, I **don’t understand…**_

 

_Dear Elsa._

 

_Why did he miss that shot when we both knew he didn’t have to?_

 

_Dear Elsa._

 

_It scares me how much I like being near him._

 

_Dear Elsa._

 

_He keeps asking me why I care so much, but why does **he**? _

 

_Dear Elsa._

 

_…I need my sister._

 

Anna’s eyes were damp as she wordlessly folded the paper, sealed it, and set it beside the letter from the night before, still neatly-creased and untouched.

 

She glanced to the window, staring distantly out towards the forest as the full harvest moon began to rise ever higher in the darkening sky.

 

—-

 

It was dark by the time Anna set foot on the path to the stables, a wash of pale moonlight falling over her as she carefully balanced the basket in her arms. As Kristoff had predicted, the kitchen staff had been less than pleased by their still-depleted stores of meat, but they’d still deferred to the lady of the house, offering her a good supply of breads and vegetables, several helpings of that evening’s stew, and, after a small amount of tense back-and-forth, some chocolate from the cupboard for later.

 

It was a small-framed girl scarce her own age who helped Anna load her bounty into the basket, even glancing around surreptitiously before tucking a small bottle of wine beneath the loaves of bread.

 

“…you just be careful now, milady,” the girl had whispered, a soft, knowing look in her eyes, and Anna had awkwardly nodded before quickly gathering up the basket in her arms and retreating from the kitchens as fast as her legs could carry her.

 

She didn’t want to think about what the girl’s words had meant, what people might be thinking.

 

What… what they might _know._

 

“ _You know she’s going to be here_.”

 

Anna stopped at the barn doors at the sound of the familiarly goofy voice and bit her lip against a grin.

 

“Yeah, well, I thought she’d be here by now,” Kristoff said.

 

Did he sound… anxious?

 

Anna arched an eyebrow as she leaned closer to the door.

 

“ _She’s probably just getting pretty_ ,” ‘Sven’ responded, and Anna folded her lower lip in against her teeth at the swell of laughter that bubbled up inside her chest.

 

“Considering she’s beautiful when she’s mending a fence in my coat and a pair of old work gloves, that shouldn’t be an issue, either.”

 

“ _You’re such a soft touch, Kristoff.”_

 

“Oh, shut up.”

 

“…am I interrupting?” Anna said in a teasing voice, lips tilting into a mischievous grin as she pushed open the barn doors.

 

Kristoff jumped from where he stood leaning against Sven’s stall. “…uh…” he managed, rubbing at the back of his neck and flushing down to his neck, “…not really. You know. Just, uh. Talking. About stuff. Other than you.”

 

“Other than me, huh?” Anna smiled a little as Kristoff came over to take the basket from her, setting it down on the familiar haybales stacked near Sven’s stall. “Guess you weren’t worried about me running late or anything, then?”

 

Kristoff shrugged nonchalantly as he rummaged through the contents of the basket, but his cheeks were still crimson. “Not really,” he said.

 

“…’cause, see, I heard _Sven_ say a few things that made me think a little.”

 

Sven perked up at the sound of his name, happily trotting over to his stall door and staring at Anna with adoring eyes.

 

Anna grinned and leaned over Kristoff’s shoulder, her fingertips brushing over his as she extracted a carrot from the basket. Sven whinnied in delight as she easily tossed it to him and he caught it in his mouth.

 

“Yeah, well,” Kristoff muttered, setting the basket down, “Sven really needs to learn to keep his mouth shut.” He tore off a hunk of bread from one of the loaves and handed it to her without meeting her eyes before sitting down heavily on the hay bale.

 

Anna smiled as she hopped up beside him, their knees just barely brushing. “…I think he makes some good points,” she said, thoughtfully chewing on her bread. “Sometimes.”

 

Kristoff was very still beside her for a long moment, staring at their knees settled side by side.

 

“…yeah. Well.” His voice was quiet, his eyes taking on that distant, troubled look she’d come to know so well. “…sometimes… he gets ideas he really shouldn’t.”

 

His shoulder brushed against her, and Anna unconsciously pressed closer.

 

“…does he,” she said.

 

She barely recognized the sound of her own voice, breathless and warm around the syllables.

 

She could feel Kristoff swallow hard beside her, and then the warmth along her side disappeared as he moved a few inches farther away, reaching down to bring the covered stewpot up between them.

 

“…yeah,” he said quietly, avoiding her gaze as he removed the lid and dipped his bread into the stew. “And he… really can’t afford to.”

 

A cold, leaden weight seemed to press against Anna’s chest, and she clutched her bread in between her fingers, staring down at her hands. “…oh,” she said, very quietly.

 

Kristoff was quiet for a long moment, chewing slowly.

 

“…but sometimes…” he began, before shaking his head, hard and fast.

 

“What?” Anna said, leaning a little closer.

 

Kristoff finally looked at her, eyes gone soft and sad.

 

“…nothing,” he said finally, turning away.

 

They finished the rest of their meal in silence.

 

—-

 

It was Anna who retrieved the wine, and Kristoff who pierced the cork with his knife after bemusedly watching Anna attempt to forcibly pull it from the bottle by hand for the better part of five minutes.

 

“…I don’t think you can put it back in when you do that,” Anna said, eyeing the bottle skeptically.

 

Kristoff raised an eyebrow at her as he tilted his head back on a long draught, wiping the mouth of the bottle on his sleeve before handing it to Anna. “I’m sure Hans has got plenty more where this came from,” he said, a bit sardonically. “Not sure he owns anything he can’t replace.”

 

Anna shrugged, taking a delicate sip from the bottle and grimacing slightly. “Is it supposed to taste like that?”

 

“If his majesty saw fit to give it to the servants, probably. Just hope it isn’t poisoned.”

 

Anna was quiet, rolling the bottle over in her hand. “…you never told me why you don’t like him, you know,” she said finally.  

 

Kristoff regarded her for a long moment. “…I didn’t, no,” he said quietly.

 

“I thought we had a deal.”

 

“Did you write your sister?”

 

Anna closed her eyes and took a swig from the bottle. “Twice now.”

 

Kristoff was quiet, then rose and walked to the back of the barn. “I want to show you something,” he said, voice so soft she could barely hear him.

 

He was gone for several minutes, several minutes during which Anna rested her head against the rough wood of the barn wall, staring straight ahead, fingers clutching at the wine bottle in her hand.

 

_You are a married woman_ , the voice in her head seemed to scream at her. _You are a married woman and you are sitting in a barn, at night, **drinking** with a servant boy. _

 

Even the protesting voice within her was silent, and Anna drummed her heels anxiously against the hay bale beneath her.

 

_It’s dangerous,_ the voice continued, tone turning from anger to a sharp thread of fear. _Everything about this is dangerous, Anna._

 

_Go._

 

**_Go._ **

 

…the voice was right.

 

It was too dangerous, to be here like this, with him.

 

It was too dangerous to feel like this.

 

It was too dangerous to _want._

 

Her limbs were threaded tight with tension, and Anna hastily set the bottle down, pushed up from the haybale and tried to ignore the sharp stab in her chest, the yearning pull as she turned to look back to Kristoff’s room…

 

…just as the door opened and he reappeared, one hand closed tightly around something unseen, eyes clouded and dark.

 

“I…” he started, almost abashedly, still staring down at his hand. He shook his head, moving to stand beside her. “…here.”

 

Anna’s eyes widened as he unclenched his hand, revealing a simple gold band in his palm, shining beautifully in the lamplight, and Anna’s blood ran cold.

 

He wasn’t going to give… he _couldn’t_ …

 

“…it was my mother’s,” Kristoff said, very quietly, moving to sit beside her, and Anna let out the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.

 

Kristoff eyed her curiously as she exhaled, and Anna attempted a smile. “…sorry,” she said, waving her hands a little, “…I, uh… that’s not what I was… I mean, I didn’t…”

 

There was a flash of recognition in Kristoff’s eyes, then something soft and sad within their depths as he gave her a humorless smile.

 

“You wanted to know something about me,” he said, holding the ring between thumb and forefinger. “Probably a good place to start.” He shrugged, but his eyes were pained as he stared at it. “It’s the only thing I still have from her. This from her, the bow from my father.”

 

“Your father was Eivind,” Anna said quietly.

 

“He was.”

 

“What was your mother’s name?”

 

“Janne.” Kristoff hesitated before taking Anna’s hand and laying the ring within her palm. “She died the same time my father did.”

 

Anna ran her fingertips over the ring. “…I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “You were young, weren’t you.”

 

She stared at Kristoff as he crossed his arms hard over his chest, setting his head back against the barn wall and staring off into the distance. “Yeah,” he said, voice strangely closed off.

 

Anna hesitated briefly before laying her hand over Kristoff’s arm. He flinched at the touch, but didn’t pull away.

 

“You don’t have to talk about them,” Anna said quietly. “I mean, if you don’t want to.”

 

Kristoff closed his eyes before slowly bringing his hand over to rest over hers, just barely touching, his fingertips brushing over hers. “It’s okay,” he said, just barely loud enough to hear. “If it’s you.”

 

Anna could feel her cheeks burning, could hear her heart thundering in her ears even as she gently twined their fingers together.

 

“…I was nine,” Kristoff said quietly. “Early spring, but it’d been a bad winter. Not that we suffered much for it on the estate in terms of stores and supplies. My parents were hard workers.” He sighed, deep and angry. “Not that they had much of a choice.”

 

“Were you born here, then?”

 

“I was. So were they.”

 

Anna stared up at Kristoff curiously as he took a deep breath.

 

“You keep asking me why I stay here, right?”

 

Anna felt a chill run down her back at his tone. “…yes.”

 

Kristoff sighed, tilting his head down to look at her. “Debts, Anna. Old ones. My grandparents took on some debts from the Westergards they couldn’t repay, and when they couldn’t…” He shrugged a little, but his shoulders were stiff. “…the Westergards took them on until they could. And everyone who came after them.”

 

Anna pulled away from him, staring up at him with wide eyes. “…are you telling me that you’re a _slave_ here?” she asked, voice a harsh whisper.

 

“Hans’s father always called us ‘indentured servants,’ whatever that means.” Kristoff sighed, moving his hand from where it rested over Anna’s to scrub it roughly over his face. “By rights I should have been done with it by the time I was sixteen. But when my parents died…” He trailed off, resting his hand over his eyes.

 

Anna’s hand was shaking as she laid it back over Kristoff’s arm, leaning her head down against it. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest as he took a rough, uneven breath before gingerly moving to stroke his fingertips over her hair. “I want to hear the rest of it,” she said quietly, her voice tight in her throat. “If you can.”

 

Kristoff was quiet for a long moment, and Anna curled closer to him, closing her eyes and willing her heartbeat to settle.

 

“A bad flu hit the estate,” he said quietly, still staring off into the barn. “Hit a lot of people, but most of them got past it. But I went down hard with it. Hans’s father gave my parents a few days’ leave to head back to the mountain village my grandparents had come from so they could see the family about some medicine that might have helped it. Would have taken me with them but by that point I was so feverish I barely knew my own name.”

 

The hand stroking over Anna’s hair stilled, and Kristoff was quiet for a long, long moment. “…don’t know why they took the western pass,” he said finally, voice distant. “Trying to save time, I guess. Early spring, though… they should have known it was too dangerous.”

 

“…why is spring dangerous?” Anna asked, opening her eyes and tilting her head up to stare at him.

 

He looked at her, eyes inscrutable. “Avalanche,” he said simply. “Never even found them to give them a decent burial. Wouldn’t even still have the ring if not for the fact that my mother never wore the thing while she was working.”

 

He brushed his thumb over her temple, looking away again as he did. “Made it through the flu anyway,” he continued, voice strangely rough. “Of course, the Westergards weren’t exactly thrilled that they’d lost two hands, but I’ve been strong enough for both of them, I guess.” He was quiet again. “Strong enough to take on their debts, anyway.”

 

“…it’s not right,” Anna heard herself say, and her voice was rough with angry, unshed tears. “It’s not right at all.”

 

Kristoff shrugged. “It could be worse. I only have five years left.”

 

Sucking in a sharp breath between her teeth, Anna roughly pulled away and hoisted herself to her feet, placing her hands on her hips and staring down at Kristoff with eyes narrowed purposefully.

 

“No. No you don’t. Kristoff Bjorgman,” she said, attempting to fill her voice with every ounce of authority she could muster even as it wavered and shook, “as lady of the Westergard estate, I hereby absolve you of any and all debts.”

 

Glancing awkwardly at her hands, Anna shrugged and reached down to lightly tap Kristoff on the forehead. “There. _Done_. No more debts. And anyone who has a problem with it can come to me and I’ll have a word or two for them, I can tell you that,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

Kristoff’s eyes were soft and sad as he smiled at her. “Anna,” he said, “it doesn’t work that way.”

 

“Nope. Sorry. Already done. You’re free. Deal with it.”

 

“Anna…” Kristoff sighed and pushed himself to his feet, curving his hand over her cheek.

 

Anna felt her lower lip tremble as she folded her hand over his. “It’s not fair,” she managed, turning her face in against their joined hands.

 

“…a lot of things aren’t fair,” she heard Kristoff say quietly, and she could only nod, biting her lip hard against the push of tears at her eyes.

 

“Anna, don’t cry.” Kristoff brought his other hand up to delicately frame her face. “Just… please don’t.”

 

“How can you tell me all of that and expect me not to cry, you jerk?” she managed, glaring up at him through a sheen of tears.

 

“…language,” he said quietly, offering her a half smile and running his thumb under one eye as a tear appeared beneath it.

 

“You’re terrible,” Anna said, sniffing hard and reaching over to whack him lightly against his shoulder.

 

“Keep insulting me and I won’t tell you about the surprise I have planned for tomorrow.”

 

“…a surprise?”

 

Kristoff’s smile grew as Anna’s eyes widened and her lips tilted upwards just a fraction. “See, there you go. Much better.”

 

Anna rolled her eyes a little and smiled up at him as he brushed his thumbs over her cheeks, catching the stray tears that fell against them. “Thanks for letting me go,” he said quietly, hands still framing her face. “Was a pretty nice gesture.”

 

Anna could feel herself trembling even as she moved a fraction closer, as Kristoff did the same. “…are you going, then?” she asked, very quietly.

 

He stared at her, eyes dark in the low lamplight as they scanned her face, and Anna felt herself burn beneath it.

 

“I…”

 

The barn doors opened on a slam, and Kristoff moved away from her faster than Anna would have thought possible, leaning hard against the barn wall, arms crossed tight over his chest.

 

Anna stared at him with curious eyes, suddenly cold, until she turned to see a stablehand leading a beautifully-arrayed cream-colored horse into the barn, its head held high.

 

Hans’s horse.

 

The stablehand bowed slightly to Anna as he led the horse into its stall. “Evening, Lady Westergard,” he said deferentially. “Heard up at the house that your husband’s looking for you, if you’d like an escort up.”

 

Kristoff was silent and tense beside her, not looking at her, and Anna felt strangely cold, strangely hollow as she forced her eyes away from him. “…that won’t be necessary, thank you,” she heard herself saying. “I’ll… I’ll head up in a minute.”

 

The stablehand nodded to her before heading from the barn, sparing Kristoff only the briefest curious glance.

 

The barn was silent for a long, long moment, the air thick with tension.

 

Finally, Anna let her shoulders fall, fisting her hands into her skirts. “…I…” she started, glancing to Kristoff, “…I should probably go.”

 

Kristoff nodded, still not looking at her. “I guess so.”

 

Anna bit her lip and took a hesitant step towards him. “I…” She hesitated. “…I was just wondering…”

 

“Yeah?” Kristoff’s voice was back to that familiar gruff, cold tone, and Anna’s heart ached for it.

 

“…I was just wondering what your surprise was,” she said in a small voice, staring down at the ground with eyes gone hot and gritty.

 

Kristoff was silent, and Anna bit harder against her lip and turned away.

 

“…the North Mountain,” he said suddenly, and Anna turned to face him even as he continued to avert his gaze. “There’s a nice vista there. Looks out onto the valley. I used to go there when I was a kid. Figured… figured you might like to see it.”

 

Anna nodded, swallowing hard around the sudden lump in her throat. “…I bet that would have been beautiful,” she whispered.

 

Kristoff closed his eyes and nodded. “Bet it would have.”

 

Anna forced herself to turn away from him, glancing to and quickly away from Sven as the Belgian regarded her with sad eyes and starting down the path. “Goodnight, Kristoff,” she said quietly.

 

She was already to the door when she heard, almost too quietly to hear:

 

“Goodnight, Anna.”

 

  
She forced herself not to look back.

 

—-

 

Anna was shaking as she climbed the smooth stone stairs to the residence wing, running her fingertips over the walls as she mentally prepared herself.

 

_Prepare yourself for what?_ the voice in her head asked bitterly. _For seeing the husband who’s just returned home? The man you should be overjoyed to see?_

 

By the time she reached the heavy oak doors leading to her bedchamber, she was trembling so hard she could barely grasp the knobs.

 

Taking a deep breath in a vain attempt to steady herself, Anna pushed the doors open and stepped inside.

 

The lights were low, the lamps dimmed and the chandeliers overhead extinguished.

 

Hans stood in the middle of the room, very still, eyes dispassionate as they stared into her.

 

“Where were you,” he said, voice flat, hard, cold.

 

It wasn’t a question.

 

_Stronger than you think you are_. Kristoff’s words filtered into her mind, and Anna straightened, forced her hands to still at her sides, and met his gaze dead on.

 

“Out,” she said.

 

Hans narrowed his eyes at her. “I see.”

 

“I was down in the barn.”

 

“So I’ve heard. You’ve been spending a lot of time there, apparently.”

 

Kristoff’s hands over hers, strong and steady on the bow…

 

“Why didn’t you tell me what Kristoff was?” Anna heard herself say, her voice rough and accusing. “Why didn’t you tell me that you _owned_ people here?”

 

Hans sighed, shaking his head. “Anna,” he said, voice softly chiding, “these are things you shouldn’t concern yourself with.”

 

“Oh, well, I’m sorry, but you can consider them officially _concerned_ ,” Anna intoned, reaching back to close the doors behind her. “And as long as I’m here, every single person on _our_ staff who isn’t here entirely of their own free will gets to choose exactly what they want to do, or _not_ do.”

 

Hans stared at her, narrowing his eyes further and taking a step towards her. “You’ve got a little fire in your belly since I’ve been gone, haven’t you,” he said quietly. “I wonder who could have put it there.”

 

Anna unconsciously took a step backward, feeling a frisson of fear shoot up her spine.

 

“I’ve heard stories since I returned home, you know,” Hans continued, still moving towards her. “Horrible things, really.” He stopped, toe-to-toe with her, one gloved hand curving tight around her chin. “But I’d hate to believe such things of you, dear wife.”

 

Her nerves were on fire, everything in her screaming to run, but Anna held fast, forcing herself to meet Hans’s gaze. “…I haven’t done anything,” she said, even as a sharp pang of guilt thudded through her chest at the feel of Kristoff’s hands in hers.

 

But they hadn’t done anything.

 

They hadn’t.

 

They… they _wouldn’t._

 

“…I haven’t done anything wrong,” Anna continued, staring up at Hans and forcing a steel into her gaze she didn’t feel in the slightest.

 

Hans stroked his thumb over her jaw, offering her a soft smile. “Well then,” he said quietly, “that would mean that either you or my servants are lying. Difficult to know who to believe, I’m afraid.”

 

Anna felt herself shake against Hans’s hold and watched as his smile grew a fraction wider. “I’m your wife, Hans,” she managed, her gaze softening as she willed herself to remember the man who had held her by moonlight, who had kissed her and whispered such beautiful things to her.

 

_It’s still him_ , she thought, a bit desperately. _It’s still him, somewhere. **Somewhere.**_

 

“You are,” Hans agreed on a sigh, removing his hand. “Unfortunately, I think you’re in need of some correction to remind you of that fact.” Pinning Anna with a sharp glance, he walked over to her vanity, opening the top drawer and rummaging for a moment before extracting the ornate ruby choker she’d worn on their wedding night.

 

Hans dangled it from his gloved fingers, watching as the rubies caught in the low light. “Undress,” he said to Anna in a light, easy voice, not looking at her. “Then on your knees at the foot of the bed.”

 

Anna hesitated by the doors, unconsciously moving away until the knobs pressed tight to her lower back.

 

“I won’t tell you twice, Anna,” Hans’s voice came to her, just a fraction harsher. “You have an important choice to make tonight about how your life here will proceed. My way…”

 

He lowered the choker, looking to her with eyes gone dark. “…or the hard way.”

 

_Stronger than you think you are, Anna._

 

Her fingers trembled as she began to undo the buttons at her throat.

 

_Dear Elsa,_ she thought to herself, closing her eyes.

 

_Help._

 

—-

 

The bedchamber was silent except for the dull, low tick-tock-tick-tock of the tall grandfather clock in the corner.

 

Anna still knelt, bare except for the ruby choker wrapped tightly around her throat, as Hans sat by the desk, staring at her, not moving.

 

An hour had passed.

 

She still hadn’t moved.

 

Still hadn’t spoken.

 

Neither had he.

 

He just stared, absently twirling one of the fountain pens Elsa had given her between his fingers, the leatherbound books from his private library opened and carefully arranged on the desktop beside him.

 

_Just do it,_ Anna had thought towards him when they’d first begun, when he’d wrapped the choker around her throat and bade her kneel. _Whatever you’re going to do to me, just do it and get it over with._

 

But he just stared, as Anna trembled and tried to stay still.

 

It was agonizing, as the minutes ticked by. The _waiting_. The utter silence, the stillness, the waiting for the moment when Hans would descend upon her with whatever punishment he’d devised, whatever pain he’d carve into her body as her wifely due.

 

But he didn’t move.

 

He just stared.

 

_Please_ , she thought, bowing her head a little, shoulders shaking. _Whatever it is, just finish it._

 

An hour and a half passed before Hans ran his fingers over one of the books, lifted it up and closed it with a reverberating snap that left Anna jumping halfway off the bed.

 

“Very good,” Hans said finally, setting the book down and eyeing her. “But I’m still not sure you deserve my company for the night.”

 

Anna was silent, staring down at her knees.

 

“But I’ll be a good sport and take the guest room,” he continued, crossing the room to press a kiss to Anna’s temple. “Remember what I’ve told you, Anna,” he murmured, placing soft, gentle kisses from eye to jawline. “Conduct yourself properly and you’ll never want for anything.” His teeth snapped against her jaw, just hard enough to hurt. “Remember that.”

 

Anna could only nod, still staring at her bared knees with blank, empty eyes.

 

“I’ll see you in the morning, Anna,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her lips. “If you’re good, I might even let you move by then.”

 

She didn’t move even as Hans pulled away, as he slipped through the broad oak doors, closing them silently behind them.

 

Didn’t move until at least fifteen minutes had passed after his departure.

 

When she tugged the choker from her neck with angry, grasping hands, pulling hard at the clasp until it gave and Anna flung it to the bed in one harsh, swift motion.

 

_Stronger than you think you are_ , Kristoff’s voice seemed to say on an endless loop in her head. _Stronger than you think you are._

 

Anna curled her arms tightly around her middle, turned her face against the mattress and wept.

 

—-

 

The first light of morning had just begun to creep along the edge of the horizon when Anna finally looked up, her hair wild and disheveled around her shoulders, eyes and cheeks stiff with tears.

 

Hans hadn’t come back to their bedchamber in the night.

 

She still hadn’t slept.

 

_You have an important choice to make,_ he’d said, and she could feel his eyes burning into her even in his absence.

 

_You’ve made your choice_ , that increasingly-familiar voice within her said, and it sounded almost a touch contrite for a change. _You’re married to Hans. You know it has to be this way._

 

Anna closed her eyes.

 

The voice was right.

 

The worst part was… it was right.

 

The time she’d spent with Kristoff had been warm, wonderful, and sustaining in a way she’d never imagined.

 

And, in the end…

 

Dangerous.

 

Impossible.

 

_You have a choice to make._

 

Anna’s eyes were dry as she rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, some faint but fierce thread of determination rising up in her chest.

 

She’d made her choice.

 

But she would make it _her_ way.

 

Anna rose on steady legs, striding purposefully to the armoire. There, hidden at the back, hung one of the few dresses she’d brought from home, one of the few things Hans hadn’t bought her.

 

One of the few things he didn’t own.

 

It was soft and well-worn, familiar as she settled it over her small frame. She rummaged around for thick socks and a warm wrap, unevenly plaited her hair in the low light by the vanity, and padded silently to the doors to the bedchamber, opening them as quietly as she could before stealing into the darkness, eyes narrowed with purpose.

 

She didn’t notice the dark, silent figure standing in wait beside her bedchamber.

 

Didn’t notice the way his eyes followed her as she moved.

 

Didn’t notice the way they closed on a low, disappointed sigh.

 

—-

 

Anna rapped her fist hard against the thick panel before her, taking a deep breath as it slowly swung open to reveal a disheveled and bleary-eyed Kristoff.

 

His eyes widened at the sight of her, and he moved a step away from her, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

 

The fierce resolve Anna had felt only strengthened at his defensive posture, and she crossed her arms as well.

 

“I want you to take me up the North Mountain,” she said in a firm voice.

 

Kristoff stared at her. “…I don’t take people places,” he said after a moment, voice rough and distant as he turned away from her and moved to close the door.

 

Anna roughly wedged her boot in between the door and the doorframe, glaring up at him. “Let me rephrase that,” she said in a low voice. “ _Take me up the North Mountain._ ”

 

Kristoff was quiet, leaning hard against the doorframe. “…depends on who’s asking,” he said quietly. “Anna… or Lady Westergard. I only take orders from one of you.”

 

The steely resolve she’d held in her shoulders finally faltered at his soft tone, and she sighed.

 

“…Anna,” she said finally. “I’m asking you as Anna.”

 

Kristoff didn’t speak for a long moment.

 

Then:

 

“Give me five minutes.”

 

For the first time since she’d left his side, Anna smiled.  


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The longest chapter thus far, and, I can assure you, the most painful one. 
> 
> Darkest before dawn, guys.
> 
> Darkest before dawn.

It seemed ages before the door reopened and Kristoff appeared, securing the last button on his rumpled work shirt and staring at Anna with careful, curious eyes.

 

He didn’t ask, even as he leaned up against the doorframe and stared at her, a faint line of worry creasing his brow.

 

Anna stood firm and stared back, willing authority and firmness into her posture even as her heart hammered against her ribcage and her breath seemed high and tight in her throat.

 

“Does he know you’re here?” Kristoff asked, voice soft and inscrutable. He didn’t look away, and his eyes seemed to burn into hers in the low lamplight.

 

Anna shook her head, forcing herself to continue to meet his gaze. “I…” She faltered, biting her lip, her eyes flicking away. “…no,” she said on a sigh, the word seeming to bleed from her lungs, heavy and tired and raw. “I don’t know where he is. And I don’t… I don’t think he cares where I am.”

 

Kristoff was quiet, still staring at her even as he folded his arms tightly over his chest. “I doubt that,” he said finally. He sighed and closed his eyes, dropping his chin to his chest. “…you’re sure about this?”

 

His shoulders were slumped, his hair mussed, everything in his posture and demeanor screaming exhaustion, and Anna swallowed hard, her fingertips burning with the desire to push his hair back, to curve her hand around his cheek, to touch and soothe and hold, protect.

 

_You’re a married woman_ , the voice in her head warned, and Anna pressed her nails tight to her palms and closed her eyes.

 

“…I’m not sure about anything anymore,” she said softly, and she barely recognized her own voice.

 

_Sure_ was for a time when she’d nestled in Hans’s arms by moonlight and she’d known it was true love.

 

_Sure_ was for when she’d turned her back on a closed door and a long-distant sister, so certain she’d never miss her.

 

_Sure_ was before Kristoff, before friendship and warmth, before something stirring beneath and behind her breastbone that she didn’t, couldn’t name.

 

Before, when everything had almost, for one brief, fleeting moment in the tumult of her life, begun to make sense.

 

Kristoff raised his head and regarded her carefully. “It’ll take us a few hours to get to the mountain and back, even riding,” he said after a moment. “Won’t be back to the estate before late afternoon at the earliest.” He hesitated before sighing hard and scrubbing a hand over his face. “…I don’t want to get you in trouble, Anna.”

 

_‘Get you in trouble,’_ the voice almost seemed to laugh, dark and humorless. _As if there were any way for you to be in more._

 

Anna folded her lower lip in hard against her teeth. “You won’t get me in trouble,” she said quietly. “Whatever happens… I’ll deal with it. With him.”

 

Kristoff didn’t respond for a long moment, hand still folded in over his eyes. “Anna,” he said finally, and there was something rough and uneven in his voice. “I’ve never taken anyone up there. Ever.”

 

“Is it dangerous?”

 

“No, it’s not that, it’s just…” He sighed, pulling his hand back and staring at her. “…I’m the only one who knows about it. It’s… something special. It’s mine. One of the only things I’ve ever had.”  

 

Anna was quiet, staring at the threaded tension in his shoulders, the clouded look in his eyes. “…are you sure you want to share it with me, then?”

 

He looked to her then, and her breath seemed to catch at the intensity within his eyes, something heavy and warm within their depths that she couldn’t begin to put a name to.

 

“Yes,” he said, very quietly.

 

Anna took a deep breath before taking a hesitant step forward and laying her hand over Kristoff’s forearm. He didn’t flinch, just stared at her.

 

“Then I’m with you,” she whispered.

 

—-

 

There was a tension to the morning as they rode silently side by side towards the front of the estate, as first light curled along the horizon and the sound of rushing water met their ears.

 

Anna gazed out across the stone bridge, twisting the reins in her hands. “Remember the first time you showed me around out here?” she asked, attempting and failing to keep her tone light as she glanced at Kristoff.

 

He crooked a half-grin at her. “Like I could forget,” he said. “I’ve never had someone so damn insistent on being friends with me.”

 

“Language.”

 

Kristoff leveled her with a flat, long-suffering stare, and Anna smiled.

 

The cool morning air echoed with the heavy clop of hooves, and Anna glanced ahead, to the forest, to the mountains.

 

“They really are beautiful,” she murmured, tilting her head back to stare at the tall, slender pines thickly lining the path, boughs and needles dusted with an early snow. “Everything’s so beautiful around here. I’d never really been to the mountains until I came here.”

 

Kristoff shrugged. “They’re mountains. Nothing too special.”

 

“They are when you’ve never seen them before.”

 

“Guess that’s true, anyway.” Kristoff arched an eyebrow at her, staring down the path before glancing down to Sven’s sturdy form beneath him. “Hey.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Just how good are you at riding?”

 

“…good enough, why?”

 

“Good enough to keep up?”

 

“Keep up with wh…”

 

Anna’s eyes widened as Kristoff grinned at her and suddenly spurred Sven into a hard gallop down the path, glancing back to her over his shoulder.

 

“Kristoff!” she yelled indignantly, quickly digging her heels into the mare’s sides and leaning hard into the saddle as she raced to catch up.

 

The trees seemed to race by in a never-ending blur as Anna struggled to remain upright, balancing and leaning in as the mare pushed on, trying to overtake Kristoff and Sven as they rode ahead.

 

What was he _thinking_ with that, anyway? Anna thought, scowling a little as she rode. They were supposed to be enjoying a leisurely morning, a brief respite from… from _everything_ that seemed to be turning her world upside down and inside out of late, and now they were…

 

Were…

 

Her unevenly plaited hair had come unbound around her shoulders, a wild corona of flame as the mountain wind tossed and twisted and ran through, whipping against her cheeks, around her skirts. The leather of the reins was soft and tight against her hands, the fiery, determined push of the ride making her heart beat faster as the mare’s hooves thundered along the path.

 

Alive.

 

_Free._

 

Anna tilted her head back, turned bright-blue eyes to the lightening sky and leaned back, drinking it in, all clean mountain air and sweet pine and _openness_.

 

It seemed, for one brief, fleeting moment, like her whole world lay ahead on the path, something beautiful and wild and promising just ahead, just beyond her reach.

 

“You okay back there?” Kristoff’s voice reached her across the wind, gentle and teasing and kind even as he raised it to be heard.

 

_Yes,_ she thought, closing her eyes, tossing her head back and laughing, riding high and wild enough to touch the sky. _Dear god, yes._

 

—-

 

They slowed their pace not long after, settling the horses as they grinned at each other, bright-eyed and windblown.

 

“You have a twig in your hair,” Kristoff said, not bothering to hide his smile as he reached over and ruffled her messy auburn locks. “More like a branch, actually. Very impressive.”

 

Anna winced as he carefully tugged the piece of wood from the tangles in her hair, tossing it aside. “There we go.” He slid down from the saddle, giving Sven a firm pat on his flank. “Now come on. We’ve got at least an hour’s hike. You warm enough?”

 

“I’m fine.” Anna twisted awkwardly in the saddle before sliding down, carefully rearranging her skirts. “…out of curiosity, what _was_ that back there?”

 

“What was what?” Kristoff asked, reaching past her to grasp the mare’s reins in one hand.

 

“Just… random horse-racing?”

 

“What, you’ve never done that, either?” He attempted his familiar crooked grin, but the look on Anna’s face settled it into something softer. “…figured you could use the wind in your hair for a few minutes,” he said finally. “Probably be awhile before…” He stopped, sighing and shaking his head as he secured the mare to a nearby tree. “Nothing.”

 

“What?”

 

Kristoff was quiet, features stern as he stroked the mare’s neck. “He’s home now,” he said, very quietly. “Not that I thought… not that…” He closed his eyes for a heartbeat before shrugging. “Figure you won’t be around too much. Now.”

 

Anna was quiet. “…we’re still friends, Kristoff. You’ll always be my friend.”

 

Kristoff stared at her, and she knew, somehow, that he didn’t believe her.

 

She didn’t know what to say to make him think otherwise.

 

After a long moment, Kristoff finally sighed and moved to secure Sven, talking softly to the clearly unhappy horse before turning back to Anna and spreading his arms out. “Well? Ready to do this?”

 

“Lead the way, mountain man,” Anna said with a small smile, feeling her heart warm in her chest as Kristoff mostly returned it.

 

She settled into silent step behind him as they began to walk along a gently sloping path cutting through the trees, Kristoff holding aside the low-hanging branches as they pushed through.

 

“…I meant what I said before,” Anna said carefully, leaning into the path and keeping her eyes on Kristoff’s back, even as she watched his spine straighten slightly at her words. “I’ll always care about you. Always.”

 

“Always is a long time,” Kristoff said, not turning back to look at her.

 

Anna was quiet, reaching up to push aside a sharp pine bough that nearly hit her. “…you were the one who set the pace earlier,” she said finally. “I didn’t have to follow.”

 

She stopped, crossing her arms over her chest until Kristoff turned to face her, eyeing her warily.

 

“But I did,” she said, voice and gaze gone suddenly soft.

 

Kristoff stared at her for a long moment before turning, glancing ahead to the path, and holding his hand out behind him.

 

Anna wordlessly crossed the few steps between them and slipped her hand into his. It was large and warm as it closed around hers.

 

He tugged gently as they began to walk again.

 

“Let me know if I’m going too fast for you,” he said quietly, still holding her hand. “Don’t want to lose you, now.”

 

Anna gently threaded their fingers together, smiling a little as Kristoff’s cheeks turned crimson in the morning light.

 

“You won’t,” she said.

 

—-

 

They climbed hand-in-hand for some time, even as the path grew rocky and the trees sparser, as they had to push into the climb and Anna’s legs burned from exertion.

 

Kristoff seemed little worse for wear from the climb, moving easily over the rocks, gently guiding Anna over the odd stray tree root or dip in the path.

 

“…I take it you’ve done this before,” Anna said, sucking in a breathful of thin mountain air and struggling to keep up.

 

“More than a few times,” Kristoff said easily. “When I can.”

 

“Show-off,” Anna grumbled, narrowing her eyes a little as Kristoff smiled.

 

Her eyes widened as she looked a short ways beyond him, to where the rocks grew larger, steeper, sharper, slanting into tilted monoliths that rose high above them.

 

“This is the fun part,” Kristoff said with a grin, and Anna watched, eyes widening further as he easily set his boots to the rocks and hauled himself up and over. Even as large as he was, he seemed so graceful on the rocks, easy and lithe in movement, and before Anna quite knew what had happened, he was at the top of the ridge, arms crossed over his chest, staring down at her.

 

“Well?” he called down, and his voice seemed to echo across the distance.

 

Anna stared at the rocks, then up to him. “…well, _what_?”

 

“Well are you coming?”

 

“Up _there_?”

 

“Where else?”

 

Anna gestured inarticulately at the rocks, hands flailing. “And how do you expect me to do _that_?”

 

“…climb?”

 

“I _can’t_!”

 

“Sure you can,” Kristoff said, and she could see his easy shrug even across the distance. “It’s not that bad. We took the easy path.”

 

Anna wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know what the _difficult_ path was if the “easy” one seemed to entail hauling herself up bodily over rocks twice her size, with only the barest hints of handholds and footholds. She glanced up to Kristoff, eyes pleading. “Kristoff. I _can’t_.”

 

“I’ll help you over when you get to the top.”

 

Anna glanced down at the closest rock before biting her lip and nudging it hesitantly with the toe of her boot.

 

“Anna,” she heard Kristoff’s voice from above her, soft, encouraging. “You can do this. You know you can.”

 

He was crouched down along the ridge, resting his forearms along his knees, and even without seeing it, she knew his eyes were soft and warm as he gazed down at her.

 

_Okay,_ Anna thought, pushing her sleeves up to the elbows and gingerly testing her weight against the rock. “Okay,” she said. “Okay. I can do this. I’m ready. I was _born_ ready.”

 

“Calm down,” Kristoff said, but there was a hint of laughter in his tone.

 

“You’d better still be there when I make it up!”

 

Kristoff laughed openly then. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. Last thing I need is to have you running after me all morning complaining that I left you behind.”

 

Anna huffed, grasping the rock and starting to haul herself up. “I don’t _complain_.”

 

“Since when?”

 

“Since _now_.”

 

“Seems like you’re complaining now, actually.”

 

“Okay, see, I’m just blocking you out now because I need to concentrate here, okay?” Anna felt a sheen of sweat breaking across her brow even in the cool mountain air, and she winced at the feeling of her fingernails breaking as she dug her fingertips in and continued to pull herself up and over.

 

“You’re doing great,” she heard Kristoff say from above her, and his voice sounded closer than before.

 

One of her boots slipped, and Anna quickly altered her grasp to hold tight to the rock before resuming her climb. Her breath was short, her heart pounding, fingers aching from their grasp, but she pushed on, teeth grit tightly together in determination. “Please,” she managed, “tell me I’m almost…”

 

Her heart leapt to her throat as a pair of large, warm hands wrapped around her wrists and tugged, pulling her close as she stumbled and found her footing.

 

“…there,” Anna finished, looking up at Kristoff with a helpless grin as he released her wrists. “Thanks for the help.” She glanced behind her, eyes widening at the sight of the long climb below and the realization of just how far she’d come.

 

“Not much help,” Kristoff said, coming to stand behind her and glancing down to the rocks. “I keep telling you you’re so much stronger than you think you are.”

 

Anna smiled a little, reaching up with one hand to smooth back her wayward hair as Kristoff glanced to her. “You know, you say that often enough and I might have to start believing you.”

 

Kristoff smiled at her and took her hand again. “And wouldn’t that be terrible.”

 

“Just awful.” She squeezed his hand a little as they started to make their way down the path again, an easy silence settling between them.

 

They were higher up now, the trees thinner and farther between.

 

“Breaking through the tree line,” Kristoff said, glancing ahead. “Not too far now.”

 

Anna nodded, suppressing a smile as he gently brushed his thumb over her hand.

 

“…thank you,” she said quietly, glancing up at him. “…I know this means a lot to you.”

 

Kristoff was quiet as he looked ahead. “Thanks for coming,” he said after a moment. “…didn’t really expect you to. But you keep surprising me.”

 

“Is that a good thing?”

 

He stopped, the mid-morning sun filtering around them between the slanting trees, a hint of a smile turning at the corners of his lips. “I think so,” he said, still holding her hand. He glanced to a short ridge a few yards past before turning back to Anna. “Now close your eyes.”

 

Anna raised an eyebrow at him. “Sorry, what?”

 

Kristoff smiled fully then, tugging on her hand. “It’s a surprise. Now come on.”

 

“I’m not gonna be able to walk if my eyes are closed, you know,” Anna grumbled, even as she shut her eyes and sighed.

 

“…do you trust me?”

 

_Do you trust me?_ His arms warm around her, settling her hands onto the bow, all closeness and comfort and…

 

“…yes,” she said softly, and the word seemed to stumble over her heart as it rose to her throat. “Yes.”

 

Kristoff took her other hand in his as well and tugged gently on them, guiding her along. He didn’t speak other than a word or two of direction.

 

It took only a few minutes before he stopped, and Anna felt her breath catch as he released one of her hands and gingerly placed an arm around her waist.

 

“…so you don’t fall,” he said, very quietly, and Anna could only nod in response.

 

Kristoff helped her a few steps forward, and then she felt the rise of wind across her face, the call of mountain birds in the distance, something wild and open all around her.

 

“Can I open my eyes yet?” she asked, voice breathless.

 

“Okay,” Kristoff said at her ear, and she felt a shiver down her spine even through his warmth and nearness. “Now.”

 

Anna opened her eyes slowly, the wind stealing her breath as she stared out at the sloping, winding valley below her. The sun was early-golden as it slanted over the landscape, snowcapped mountains forming a protective rocky spine along the wide, rushing river, glinting a silver-gold ribbon in the morning light. Everything was so far down, trees and river and mountain, a small herd of deer grazing peacefully along the riverbank, a flock of birds winging their way over the mountains.

 

“…it’s so beautiful,” Anna whispered, wrapping arm around Kristoff’s back and leaning against him. “You’re the only one who knows about this?”

 

Kristoff nodded. “I’m sure other people have been up here before, but this…” He shrugged. “It’s just… kind of where I go when I get a break. When I need some time to clear my thoughts.” He was quiet for a moment. “My parents brought me here when I was little. Once or twice.”

 

Anna turned her face in against his shoulder, feeling her heart turn over in her chest as he moved the arm around her waist to rest gently over her shoulders. “They must have loved you very much,” she said quietly.

 

Kristoff was silent and still beside her. “How do you know?” he asked, staring down at her.

 

He was very close, and Anna raised up slightly on tiptoe, raised one hand to gently brush her fingers over the swell of his cheek.

 

“…how could they not?” she asked, and her voice broke on the words.

 

She wasn’t sure she was breathing as he stared at her, lips slightly parted as he carefully cupped her cheek in his hand, stroking his thumb over her cheekbone.

 

_Dangerous_ , the voice in her head screamed, but it seemed to fade in the face of Kristoff staring at her like that, eyes soft and dark with something she finally allowed herself to identify.

 

Want.

 

She wondered, distantly, if it was reflected in her own, even as she leaned closer, as her eyes fell shut, as she felt the barest brush of her nose against Kristoff’s cheek.

 

The sharp cry of a hawk echoed across the valley, cutting through the calm mountain air, and Hans’s face flashed through Anna’s mind as she suddenly pulled away, her heart beating fast and hard in her chest.

 

“…Anna?” Kristoff asked hesitantly from beside her, and she closed her eyes at the soft concern of it.

 

There was a gentle brush of fingers along her shoulder, and she dropped her head down.

 

“…don’t,” she said softly.

 

She opened her eyes to see Kristoff staring at her with pained eyes before nodding and moving an arm’s length away, staring out at the valley.

 

“…I’m sorry,” Kristoff said quietly, not looking at her. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his eyes clouded with guilt.

 

_It’s not you,_ Anna thought, eyes burning with unshed tears. _It’s not you at all._

 

“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s… it’s fine.”

 

But it wasn’t.

 

It wasn’t when all she could think of was how badly she’d wanted to turn her head, to close that last distance between them.

 

How safe she’d felt in his arms.

 

_You’re a married woman,_ the voice in her head reminded her, and it sounded almost sad for once.

 

“Do you want me to take you home?” Kristoff asked after a moment.

 

Anna turned to look at him, failing to keep the open longing from her eyes even as they met his.

 

“No,” she said, voice rough and uneven as she cast one last, lingering glance towards the valley. “But I think you have to anyway.”

 

Kristoff was quiet, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “If that’s what you want,” he said.

 

Anna forced herself to keep her hands still as he moved past her, head bowed, shoulders hunched.

 

She followed silently, at a distance, as they made their way back down the path.

 

_True love,_ she thought, distantly, as images of an empty house faded to those of the barn, of warm hay and warm laughter and warm hands.

 

Home.

 

She didn’t know where that was anymore.

 

“It’ll take us less time going down than it did coming up,” Kristoff said ahead of her. He didn’t turn around. “Not sure if you’re tired, but it can be a little more dangerous, so watch your…”

 

He started as Anna wrapped her arms firmly around his waist from behind, pressing her cheek in between his shoulderblades and holding fast. His muscles were rigid, shoulders tight, but Anna held on, clasping her hands around his middle and staring into the forest with dry, empty eyes.

 

_Home_ , she thought distantly, and the word seemed to burn against her.

 

Kristoff bowed his head, reaching up to gently fold one hand over hers.

 

“Anna,” he said quietly.

 

She said nothing.

 

There was nothing left to say.

 

—-

 

When they finally disentangled themselves, they finished the rest of their descent in silence.

 

They rode back to the estate the same.

 

It wasn’t until they neared the barn, Anna riding a few paces ahead, that Kristoff spoke from behind her.

 

“I didn’t say it to you earlier, you know,” he said, very quietly.

 

“What didn’t you say?”

 

He clicked his tongue, and Sven picked up his pace enough that they were side by side again.

 

“Always,” he said finally.

 

Their conversation on the mountain.

 

Her hand slipping into his.

 

“…always is a long time, remember,” Anna said, not looking at him.

 

He shrugged lightly as they approached the barn, pulling back on the reins and sliding down from the saddle.

 

“Funny thing about friends,” he said, inspecting Sven’s tack. “They’re pretty good about always.”

 

“Are they?” Anna asked, dismounting from the mare and allowing herself to glance at him.

 

“So I’ve heard.”

 

Anna nodded, fisting her hands in the front of her skirts. “Well then,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to the manor house.

 

Kristoff followed her line of sight, a sharp V creasing between his brows in recognition. “Are you gonna be okay going up there?”

 

Anna took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I don’t know.”

 

Kristoff was quiet, one hand resting on Sven’s saddle. “…I can’t promise you anything, Anna,” he said after a moment. “You know that.”

 

Anna turned back to him, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

 

“But,” he continued, voice low, eyes still trained on the manor house. “I can promise you that I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe.”

 

He turned his gaze to her, eyes soft and serious. “Always,” he said.

 

Anna nodded, closing her eyes and letting his words warm her even as she took a step back. “I’ll see you later, then,” she said.

 

“Later,” Kristoff repeated, taking Sven’s reins in hand.

 

Anna turned away and began making her way up the sloping path towards the house.

 

_Always_ , she thought, something hard and heavy in her chest, and she glanced down to catch the glint of her wedding band in the late morning sun.

 

Always.

 

—-

 

Anna’s steps were slow and measured, her breath shallow as she approached the doors to her bedchamber, and she took a deep breath and steeled herself.

 

She knew what awaited her.

 

Eyes narrowed in anger, coldness and distance, lashing words and accusations and _where-were-you_ s.

 

There was a roiling guilt deep within her chest as she thought briefly to the mountain, to her arms warm around Kristoff, to the way his head had just barely dipped down against hers before… before…

 

But she’d stopped it.

 

She had.

 

But…

 

She hadn’t wanted to.

 

And that was the problem.

 

Closing her eyes and preparing for the worst, Anna turned the knob and entered the chamber, keeping her shoulders straight and her back firm…

 

…only to falter as she saw Hans standing quietly by the window, eyes distant as he stared out to the estate.

 

“You’ve been gone awhile,” he said, and his voice was devoid of the cold, mocking tone he’d used so often with her. He seemed almost… sad. Distant.

 

Anna crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her weight awkwardly. “…I was out,” she said finally. “Kristoff… took me to see the mountains. They were beautiful.”

 

Hans nodded, still staring out the window. “They are. If I’d known you wanted to see them, I’d have taken you myself.”

 

“You’d have to actually be home for more than a day to do that,” Anna said quietly, closing her eyes in preparation for the sharp rebuke she expected.

 

But there was nothing.

 

She glanced to Hans curiously as he sighed and leaned heavily against the window.

 

“I know,” he said softly. “I know.” He sighed and straightened, glancing to Anna. “Come here.”

 

Anna hesitated.

 

Waited.

 

But his eyes didn’t narrow, his words didn’t twist into a sharp, barked command.

 

He just looked at her with eyes gone soft and sad.

 

Anna thought of Kristoff’s eyes, of his warm touch on the mountain, and her stomach twisted violently with guilt.

 

Silently, she moved to stand beside him, just close enough to touch, side by side at the window.

 

“…the servants have been talking, you know,” Hans said.

 

“…you mentioned,” Anna said, voice tight as she recalled his words, his actions from the night before.

 

Hans looked at her. “I know I was angry with you,” he said on a sigh, reaching out to stroke one gloved hand over her cheek. “But when I couldn’t find you this morning, it made me realize… how wrong I’ve been.” His eyes were soft as he ran his thumb over her lips. “How close I’ve come to losing you.”

 

Anna felt her breath hitch in her throat. The eyes, the touch, the warmth… it was as though the man who had held her by moonlight that first night had awoken from a nightmarish sleep.

 

And yet…

 

There was still something light to it. Something superficial and strange.

 

_True love_ , she’d insisted, once, as she’d wept and pleaded with her sister.

 

She wasn’t sure she knew what love was anymore.

 

“I was telling the truth, you know,” Hans said, bringing her out of her reverie as he cupped her chin in his hand. “About never feeling this way before.” He stroked her cheek, her chin with gloved fingers. “Anna…” he said, and Anna felt her heart turn over at the way his brows drew together in pain, “…it broke my heart to hear that you’d been with another man.”

 

Anna’s breath seemed to freeze in her throat, and she stilled beneath Hans’s touch. “We’re just friends,” she whispered. “I’ve never been with him. I’ve never been with anyone but you.”

 

Hans sighed, dropping his hand away and closing his eyes. “I want to believe you, Anna. I’d give anything to.”

 

Anna clenched one hand to the front of her bodice, biting her lip and bringing her free hand up to lay against Hans’s shoulder.

 

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” she said, very quietly. “What… what can I do to make it better?”

 

Hans laid his hand over hers. “If you love me,” he said, reaching out his free hand to stroke over her hair, “then you’ll stay away from him. I want to trust you, Anna. But I need you to meet me halfway.”

 

There was a sharp stab deep within her chest at his words, even as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close on a sigh.

 

“You’re still my wife, Anna,” Hans said quietly. “I didn’t make our wedding vows lightly. After losing Christabel…” He rested his head against Anna’s, voice trailing off.

 

“I never thought I’d be able to love someone like that again,” he continued after a moment. “But then… then there was you.”

 

He pulled back far enough for Anna to see the sheen of tears in his eyes, and she suppressed the sob rising to the back of her throat as she curved her hand around his cheek.

 

“Promise me, Anna,” he said softly.

 

Hans’s eyes were soft and pleading as they stared into hers, and Anna remembered their wedding day, remembered the devotion and adoration in their depths.

 

_You’re a married woman_ , the voice in her head said yet again.

 

It was right.

 

In the end… it was right.

 

Anna nodded, feeling a tear slip down her cheek. “I promise. I promise… I promise I’ll be good.”

 

Hans smiled gently at her before leaning down to kiss her, just barely, a soft brush across her lips. “That’s my good, devoted wife.” He ran one hand over her sleeve. “Now why don’t you change out of this old thing and into one of your new gowns for lunch? Today’s a new start for us, I think.”

 

Anna nodded as Hans leaned down and kissed her again. “I just need to slip down to the kitchens momentarily and tell them to make sure our evening is special,” he murmured against her lips. “I’ll be back soon.”

 

Anna watched him go, wrapping her arms tightly around her middle as she leaned hard against the window, staring out to the estate, to the barn in the distance, as she felt the first of a long line of tears slip down her cheek.

 

_You knew it would end this way,_ the voice said. _You knew._

 

She pushed away from the window and made her way to the armoire, pulling out the first dress her hands brushed over and dressing mechanically, unblinking as her tears continued to fall.

 

She didn’t notice as Hans cast a warm, soft smile her way as he stood in the doorway.

 

Didn’t notice that his eyes were dry as he slipped into the hallway.

 

Dry.

 

Hard.

 

Cold.

 

—-

 

“ _Been long enough since you found the time to brush me_.”

 

Kristoff rolled his eyes as Sven lowered his head and glared at him. “Sorry, buddy,” he grumbled, stroking the brush over Sven’s coat. “It’s been a rough few days.”

 

“ _Because of Anna?_ ”

 

“Who said anything about Anna,” Kristoff said between gritted teeth.

 

“ _You always say something about Anna._ ”

 

“You don’t even know how to _talk_ , how would you know?”

 

“ _I know that you care about her._ ”

 

The brush stilled along Sven’s coat for a moment before resuming. “We’re friends,” Kristoff said. “Of course I care about her.”

 

“Still talking to that beast of yours, I see. Here I’dve thought a grown man would be past such things.”

 

Kristoff’s blood ran cold at the sound of the aristocratic voice, fingers stilling along the brush as Hans appeared by the gate to Sven’s stall, leaning easily against the rough wood.

 

“Lord Westergard,” Kristoff said, rolling his eyes a little. “Am I supposed to curtsey?”

 

“No, I wouldn’t want you to change your usual habit of never affording me any respect whatsoever,” Hans said lightly, eyeing Kristoff.

 

Kristoff shrugged. “Wouldn’t want you to break your habit of never actually deserving any.”

 

“Mm. Have you mended all of the fences around the estate?”

 

“The ones that were broken.”

 

“Checked that the food stores are ready for winter?”

 

“Not my job, but yeah, did that, too.”

 

“Good man.” Hans ran his finger along the rough woodgrain of the stall door. “I’m lucky to have you on my staff.”

 

Kristoff laughed, harsh, bitter, and humorless. “Like I have a say in it.”

 

Hans regarded him levelly before glancing down the line of stalls. “Has my Anna been doing well with that white mare? I understand you’ve taken her riding a few times now. Or so I’ve heard.”

 

Kristoff remained expressionless as he shrugged and continued to brush down Sven. “Once or twice. She doesn’t exactly take no for an answer, that one.”

 

Hans laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, I’m well aware of that.” He glanced to Kristoff. “She’s an eager thing. Especially at night.”

 

“’Eager,’” Kristoff repeated, not looking at him. “”Eager’ like those girls you used to bring out here when you were a teenager? The ones I used to find crying and were too afraid to even tell me their names?”

 

Hans raised an eyebrow at him and smirked. “You’ve a good memory.”

 

“Hard to forget something like that. Especially by the fourth time.”

 

“Hm,” Hans said nonchalantly. “That particular mare was Christabel’s favorite as well, wasn’t it? I know she used to sneak away from our bedchamber and ride off in the middle of the night.” He glanced at Kristoff. “Never found out where she went. But I’m pretty sure I know who helped her.”

 

Kristoff gave Sven’s coat a few more hard, rough passes. “She was the lady of the house,” he said in a rough voice. “She asked me to have her horse tacked and ready some nights. All I did. I didn’t ask questions.”

 

“But she was kind to you.”

 

Kristoff closed his eyes for a moment, his hand stilling on the brush. “She was kind to everyone,” he said finally. “And she was terrified of you.”

 

Hans sighed, leaning up against the stall door. “She’d been so promising at first,” he said. “But she was very… headstrong by the end of it. Still…” He glanced meaningfully to Kristoff. “…it broke my heart to lose her so early.”

 

“I’m sure,” Kristoff said sardonically. “I’m sure you still cry yourself to sleep over it.”

 

“Well, I would have… if not for Anna.”

 

Kristoff froze at the mention of her name, and Hans slowly smiled.

 

“She’s been exquisite so far, you know that?” Hans said lightly. “So unpracticed, completely untouched… but just between us, the girl fucks beautifully. So obedient and willing to please. She’ll do whatever you tell her to. Of course I’ve had to break her a _little_ , that always happens, but it’s been so worth it to see her kneel. Bleed.”

 

Kristoff was silent, his face utterly expressionless, but Hans glanced to his hand as it stilled on the brush, to his knuckles gone white as they gripped the wood hard enough to break.

 

“Something upsetting you, Kristoff?” Hans asked, lips tilting up into a smirk.

 

“…you’re talking about your wife like she’s a whore,” Kristoff ground out, not looking at him. “You don’t deserve to have her spit on you.”

 

Hans raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh?”

 

“Yeah.” Kristoff threw the brush aside, standing toe-to-toe against the stall door with him, eyes narrowed malevolently. “And she deserves better than you.”

 

Hans didn’t move, nor did his smirk falter. “I’ve always liked that honesty in you,” he said. “Borders on stupidity more often than not. But it’s refreshing.”

 

He moved away from the stall door, eyeing Sven. “And you’re still trawling about with that same creature, aren’t you. Might be time to set him out to pasture and get yourself a new one.”

 

Kristoff laughed, short and sharp, crossing his arms over his chest. “No thanks. Sven and I have been through a lot together.”

 

“You have, haven’t you.” Hans sighed and glanced back to Kristoff. “Really, the two of you have more than repaid your debts at this point, I think.”

 

Kristoff stared at Hans, eyes narrowed and suspicious, but he remained silent.

 

Hans’s smirk deepened. “In fact, I’d be prepared to forgive them entirely.”

 

“Very generous of you,” Kristoff said, voice tight and dark.

 

Hans shrugged. “Oh, I have my moments.” He reached over the stall door to stroke Sven’s nose with gloved fingertips, eyes darkening as the horse shied away from him. “Tell me how this sounds: your debts forgiven, six months’ pay, and a handsome recommendation for the next lord who takes you on.” He leaned easily against the stall door. “Exceptionally generous, some might say.”

 

“Some might,” Kristoff said tightly, “if they didn’t know you. What’s the catch?”

 

“I’m wounded, Kristoff.”

 

“What’s the _catch_?” Kristoff ground out, drawing himself up to his full height and glaring at Hans.

 

Hans crossed his arms over his chest, granting Kristoff a slow, easy smile. “None,” he said. “Except that you leave right now, from this stable. No looking back. No lingering. No goodbyes.” His eyes narrowed meaningfully. “If there happened to be anyone in particular you might want to bid farewell.”

 

The anger drained from Kristoff’s eyes, his shoulders slumping as he stared at Hans, his jaw tight.

 

The stable was silent for a long, long moment.

 

“Well,” Hans said finally, sighing a little as he straightened his gloves, “if you insist, I suppose I can add a few years to your servitude.” He smiled, a touch sympathetically. “It’d likely have happened anyway, you understand. Theft of property. Nothing that can’t be replaced, but irritating just the same.”

 

“What property?” Kristoff asked, arms crossed tightly over his chest, a muscle twitching angrily in his jaw.

 

Hans eyed him for a long moment. “Nothing that can’t be replaced,” he repeated in a low voice. “Nothing that won’t be, soon enough.”

 

Kristoff stared at him, something cold and sharp running down his spine. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

 

Hans merely smiled at him. “Don’t let me keep you from your work, Kristoff,” he said, turning away and pushing back from the stall door.

 

“Hans.”

 

Hans turned back, raising a curious eyebrow at Kristoff’s low, dark tone.

 

Kristoff flung open the stall door, taking slow, deliberate steps until he was toe to toe with Hans, eyes burning angrily into his.

 

“If I ever,” he said, voice deceptively quiet, “see you hurt her, I’ll kill you with my bare hands. That’s a promise.”

 

He stepped away, still glaring even as Hans smirked and turned away.

 

“I’ll be sure to tell my wife you send your regards,” he called over his shoulder, before exiting the barn and closing the door behind him.

 

Kristoff stood utterly still for a long, long moment, eyes dark, shoulders shaking until his clenched fist finally met the barn wall.

 

—-

 

Anna clutched her hands to the front of her dress, willing her heartbeat to settle as she stared at the same familiar barnwood that had before been a sight of pure relief. Of hope. Of warmth and love and friendship.

 

Now, she feared what lay on the other side of it.

 

Lunch with Hans had been as wonderful as it possibly could be. He’d instructed the staff to prepare all of her favorite meals, even having them bring in chocolate fondue for dessert. Afterwards, he’d taken her upstairs to the library and curled up on the chaise longue with her as he read and stroked her hair.

 

It was almost like before.

 

When he’d loved her.

 

When she’d been so sure that he did.

 

And in the end…

 

He was her husband.

 

And she’d made a promise to him.

 

Taking a deep breath, Anna pushed open the barn door.

 

Kristoff was seated on a familiar hay bale beside Sven’s stall, his head in his hands, and Anna’s heart clenched painfully at the sight of him.

 

“Kristoff?” she said hesitantly, taking a step into the barn.

 

He looked up sharply at her, features awash in open relief. “Anna,” he said, fairly breathing her name. “Oh thank God, Anna.” He stood quickly, rushing over to her and carefully inspecting her face. “Are you okay? Are you safe? Did he do anything?”

 

Anna furrowed her brow in confusion as he tilted her face this way and that. “I’m… fine?” She gasped as she caught sight of his right hand, the knuckles torn and bloodied. “Kristoff, what happened?”

 

He barely glanced to his injured hand. “Nothing,” he said. “Just a scratch. Are you sure you’re okay? Where’s Hans?”

 

Anna closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and moving away from Kristoff’s careful touch. “…Hans is the reason I’m here,” she said quietly, even as her heart seemed to twist violently in her chest. “He… he spoke to me earlier.”

 

Anna closed her eyes and willed her heartbeat to settle before looking up at Kristoff.

 

“…I’m married, Kristoff,” she said finally, voice tired and weak.

 

Kristoff’s eyes met hers, a flash of dull recognition within their depths.

 

He didn’t say anything.

 

“…I’m sorry,” Anna offered quietly, taking another step away. “I… I’ll always care about you as a friend. You know that.”

 

Kristoff remained silent, even as Anna watched the slow turn of emotion across his features.

 

She ached, burned to touch him, to hold him close, to keep him beside her, warm and comforting and safe.

 

But she stood firm, forced back her tears and held his gaze.

 

She would be a good wife.

 

She would.

 

“Anna,” Kristoff said after a long moment, voice very quiet, “let me take you home.”

 

“I can walk back to the house myself, it’s fine.”

 

“No,” Kristoff said, a bit desperately, eyes pleading, and Anna felt her heart skip a bit at his open worry. “Home to your sister. To where it’s safe.”

 

Anna stared at him, utterly bewildered. “What… what are you talking about?”

 

“He’s dangerous, Anna. I don’t know what he’s up to, but he’s dangerous. You need to get out of here.” He took a step towards her, frowning as she moved back. “You don’t have to leave forever. Just… just long enough for me to find out what’s going on. Long enough for you to be safe.”

 

Anna stared at him, mouth drawn into a tight line. “So you want me to go back to my sister.”

 

“I think you’d be safer there.”

 

“Back to a sister who has not once, not _once,_ contacted me since I came here.” She narrowed her eyes and moved towards Kristoff. “Who left me alone _my entire life_ , and who hasn’t cared about me at all in over a decade.”

 

Anna fisted her hands at her sides, staring up at Kristoff. “You want me to abandon my marriage for that?”

 

Kristoff was quiet for a long moment. “Anna,” he said finally, “not two hours ago, Hans came out to the barn and offered to set me free.”

 

Anna’s eyes widened. “…he… he set you free?”

 

Kristoff closed his eyes and dropped his head to his chest. “…I couldn’t,” he said in a rough voice. “I couldn’t.”

 

“Why _not_?” Anna grabbed his arm and pulled him to face her, eyes flashing with anger and confusion. “He offered to let you go and you said _no_?”

 

“If I left you,” Kristoff said, meeting her gaze dead-on. “If I left you and never looked back. If I left you here with him, never knowing if you were alive or dead.”

 

Anna stared at him, her words seeming to die in her throat at the intensity in his eyes.

 

“You don’t have to worry about me with him,” she said finally, looking away. “He… he’s different now. I think…” She closed her eyes. “…I think I hurt him, Kristoff. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to… to make you think that this was anything…”

 

It felt as though someone were ripping her heart violently from her chest. “…he’s my husband, Kristoff,” she said, voice breaking on the words. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

 

“…you said he hurts you.”

 

Anna glanced sharply up to him, eyes wide. “What?”

 

“That night, here in the barn. When you fell asleep on Sven.” His eyes were pained, brows drawn. “I’m a light sleeper. Heard you come in. Heard you talking, too.”

 

Anna crossed her arms tightly over her chest, turning away. “I can handle it.”

 

“You shouldn’t have to _handle_ it! For God’s sake, Anna, you didn’t hear the things he said about you. You haven’t seen the things he’s done over the years.”

 

Anna was quiet, staring off into the middle distance, willing her heart to harden even as it shattered.

 

Kristoff sighed angrily, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Anna,” he said. “I’m not asking…”

 

“Yes, you’re asking!” Anna said suddenly, whirling around to face him. “You’re asking me to choose between a vow I made and… and I don’t even know what! And it’s not _fair_.”

 

She allowed the rising sob at the back of her throat to break free, shoulders falling, eyes falling. “Do you want me to say that I’m choosing him?” she managed. “Is that what you want me to say?”

 

“Anna,” Kristoff said quietly, “I’m not asking you to choose anything. I’m just asking you to help me keep you safe.” He reached with gentle hands to brush aside the few tears trailing down her cheeks. “Even if that means I never see you again.”

 

Closing her eyes, Anna reached with shaking fingers to push his hands away. “I can’t,” she said, voice breaking around the words. “I can’t do this. I can’t… I can’t _be_ this.” She pulled away from his touch, forcing herself to straighten and meet his pained stare as calmly as she could, even with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Kristoff.”

 

He stared at her for a long, long moment.

 

“…I’m sorry, too,” he said finally.

 

The words seemed suspended between them, heavy with meaning, so much unspoken, so much unsaid.

 

Anna bit hard against the inside of her lip, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath as she turned away.

 

“Goodnight, Kristoff,” she said, trying and failing to hold her head high as she reached the barn doors.

 

“…goodbye, Anna,” she heard behind her, soft and sad.

 

She could swear she heard his heart breaking through the calmness of his words.

 

She wondered if it was just the echo of her own as she left.

 

—-

 

Hans was waiting for her in their bedchamber.

 

She’d made sure to dry the torrent of tears that had broken from her as soon as she’d left the barn.

 

“It’s over,” she said quietly, something awful and pained deep in her chest as Hans held her close, kissed her hair.

 

“Such a good wife,” he murmured against her. “I’ve missed you.”

 

Later, as he stripped her bare, as he laid her back against the bed, as her reflections around her bore bruising fingertips and bite marks, as the pillows behind her splashed red, Anna stared to the ceiling with eyes gone distant and empty.

 

_Don’t worry,_ the voice within her said, mockingly gentle. _It’s only for the rest of your life._

 

She thought of Kristoff as Hans moved roughly over her.

 

_Always._

 

_Always._

 

She didn’t notice when the first of her tears slipped down her cheeks.

 

Or the last.

 

—-

 

Kristoff breathed hard into his cupped hands against the cold, chafing them together in the late autumn night. There was a frost to the air, a bite, and he shrugged more deeply into his coat, glancing warily down the path.

 

The rider approached slowly, unhurriedly, and he rolled his eyes.

 

_Leave it to him to take “get here as soon as you can” as a suggestion_ , he thought on a sigh.

 

The rider finally appeared beside him, breath ghosting in the cold night air. “This had better be worth it,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Had to leave the alehouse just as Marina was starting her shift.”

 

Kristoff narrowed his eyes at the rider and handed up a roughly folded letter. “Get this,” he said in a low, tight voice, “to that name, at that address. _Fast_.”

 

The rider turned the letter over in his hand. “Fast has a price, Bjorgman,” he said. “And I know you haven’t got much coin lately. Or ever.”

 

Kristoff was silent as he reached into his coat and retrieved a small, carefully-wrapped item, his jaw set tight.

 

The rider glanced curiously to him as he unwrapped it, raising an eyebrow as he tilted it in the moonlight. “Real gold, I’m assuming?”

 

“It’s real,” Kristoff said quietly.

 

“I won’t ask if you’ve been gallivanting around with married women these days, Bjorgman, but gold’s gold.” The rider slipped the ring and letter into the small satchel at his waist.

 

“Fast,” Kristoff repeated, turning away. “And _only_ to that name.”

 

“Talk like that and a man might think you don’t trust him, Bjorgman.”

 

Kristoff didn’t respond, raising up the collar on his coat and heading back down the path, hands thrust deeply into his pockets, gritting his teeth hard against the lump in his throat, the dampness at his eyes.

 

Always, he thought, as the emptiness in his pocket seemed to burn against him.

 

Always.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is also my gift to all of you for all of the pain I’ve put you through thus far.
> 
> That said… I would like to point out that there are four chapters left in this story.
> 
> I wouldn’t rest easy quite yet.

Anna had never possessed a particularly sharp memory.

 

It wasn’t that she had little care for the things she forgot, but her mind was as quick and sprightly as Anna herself, moving from one idea, one thought to the next so rapidly that less consequential things were often left behind. She’d lose a spoon at dinner only to realize that it was still in her hand, enter a room without remembering why she’d come to it in the first place.

 

But some things she would never forget.

 

Like Gerda’s quiet, somber voice as she told Anna the news of her parents.

 

Or the cold emptiness of that first night alone after Elsa disappeared when she was a child.

 

Or the vacant, broken look in her eyes when she returned.

 

It was the last memory that haunted her now, as Anna sat at the ornate vanity in her shared bedchamber, staring blankly to her haggard reflection, that same hollow look staring back at her from within the glass.

 

Five nights.

 

Five nights since she’d made her decision, since she’d broken her heart and re-cast the jagged shards of it into proper wifehood, into subservient duty.

 

Five nights with Hans, in his arms, in his bed, held firmly in his grasp.

 

He’d been almost gentle that first night, and Anna had pushed back her tears, pushed back the fresh memory of Kristoff’s quiet voice and pained face as Hans kissed her, undressed her, took her to bed. He’d stroked her back, kissed her forehead, whispered how proud he was, how proud to have such a dutiful wife, before moving his hands to fist tightly in her hair, a twisted push-pull as he rocked into her, held her head fast against the pillow and murmured a hundred wicked promises.

 

That she’d learn to love this.

 

That she’d remember to love him.

 

Anna hadn’t responded, just stared blank-eyed and quiet to the ceiling, kept her hands still at her sides, utterly numb as he took her.

 

She’d made her choice.

 

She would abide by it.

 

There was little else she could do now.

 

The days began to turn, better and worse all at once. Briefly home and untroubled by the daily concerns of business, by day Hans was once more the charming, genteel man she’d married — he would instruct the servants to make Anna’s favorite meals, bring her chocolates, ghost his lips across the swell of her cheek, give her yet another piece of ornate jewelry to add to the growing collection carefully stowed in the top drawer of her vanity.

 

But when night fell, he’d stare at her with hazel wolf-eyes gone dark, a command and a promise within their depths, and Anna would fall wordlessly to her knees, marble floors familiarly cold beneath her.

 

Hans would cup her cheek in his hand, stroke his thumb lovingly over her cheekbone.

 

“You want for nothing when you’re here, remember,” he said on the third night, voice dark as he extracted his books from the shelf, and, later, has he’d taken the crop to her back, as he’d pressed hard against her spine with the sole of his boot. “Consider this your coin.”

 

He’d rubbed ointment into her wounds afterwards with light, deft fingers, kissed her nape and murmured words of praise to her as she sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, pressed aching fingertips tightly to her ankles

 

 _True love_ , Anna thought, distantly, as she stared into the mirrors around their bedside, haunted and empty eyes staring back at her in the darkness.

 

She wasn’t even sure it was the regular kind anymore.

 

—-

 

On the sixth morning, Anna woke with stiff limbs and an unspoken scream bitter and sharp on her tongue, the echoes of dark, tumbling nightmares still hovering at the edges of her consciousness.

 

Hans was already awake and fully-dressed, fastening his cufflinks and giving her an appraising stare as he watched her from the windows.

 

“Trouble sleeping?” he asked lightly, raising an eyebrow at her, and Anna closed her eyes and set her head back against the pillow.

 

“It’ll pass,” she murmured.

 

She could feel Hans’s eyes passing over her, even from the short distance, burning into her like a brand.

 

“Yes,” he said, voice strangely and unsettlingly calm. “I suppose it will.”

 

Anna opened her eyes to regard him curiously, but he’d already moved to the nearby writing desk, tugging open the bottom drawer and, sparing Anna a brief glance over his shoulder, extracting a heavy ring of keys that jangled and clanked against one another as he lifted them out.

 

“I must say,” Hans said lightly, turning the keys over in his hand, “you’ve surprised me these past few days, Anna. When I’d first heard those… rumors about you and your possible… _transgressions_ against our marriage bed, I’ll admit I feared the worst for you. For us.” His lips quirked into a hint of a soft smile. “But here we are. My beautiful, faithful little wife. So willing. So obedient.” He curled his hand tightly around the keys, smile widening a fraction as he strode to their bedside. “And I think that deserves a reward, don’t you? A show of… trust, of a sort.”

 

Anna pushed up onto her elbows, eyeing Hans warily as he took her hand and laid the keys across her palm.

 

“You’ve noticed, no doubt,” Hans continued, “that many of the doors here in the manor house are locked. For protection, you understand. Against unscrupulous staff and prying eyes.”

 

He tapped the keys with one gloved finger, his eyes glinting in the low lamplight. “These are the keys to all of those rooms. All of them.” He reached out to stroke gentle fingers over Anna’s chin, sloping down over her pale throat. “Little of interest in any of them, I’m afraid… but a symbolic show of faith and trust to my dear little wife while I’m away.”

 

Anna was quiet, her spine rigid as he touched her, and she forced her attention to the keys in her hand. “You’re leaving again?”

 

“I’m afraid so. Business in France. Can’t be avoided. I’ll buy you some pretty things in Paris, don’t you worry.” He lightly tapped her nose, and Anna suppressed a grimace at the gesture.

 

 _Be a good wife,_ the voice in her head chastised, and Anna bit back a mental oath.

 

 _I can be a good wife without him treating me like a child,_ she thought irritably.

 

Swallowing a sigh, Anna hoisted the keys and folded them over one by one, all varying lengths and sizes, silver, brass, copper…

 

…and there, in the middle, one large, heavy barrel key made of dark iron, delicate filigree curving along its stem. Anna unhooked it from the ring, squinting curiously at its sharp, heavy teeth. “What’s this one for?” she asked, turning it from side to side. Its surface almost seemed to leach away the dim lamplight, not a hint of luster from within it.

 

Hans smiled slowly, teeth gleaming white and sharp as he reached to stroke his finger over the key, something inscrutable in his eyes. “My private study,” he said simply. “The last room at the end of the hall, on the right.” His smile faded, fingers moving from the key to curve tightly around Anna’s chin, drawing her gaze up to meet his. “The one room you’re barred from entering, I’m afraid.”

 

Anna stared at him, then at the key in her palm. Its weight seemed to burn against her skin as she closed her hand around it. “Why?”

 

Hans smiled again, but there was something darkly amused to it, and Anna felt a sharp prickle of fear crawl uncomfortably along her spine.

 

“Anna,” Hans said after a moment, “there are some things a man keeps solely to himself. Even from his wife.”

 

He curled his hand around Anna’s, over the key. “Do you understand me?”

 

Anna was quiet, looking down to their clasped hands.

 

Understand him.

 

 _It’ll come_ , the voice in her head attempted, but even its confidence had faltered as the days had turned, as the nights turned darker and longer. _In time… it’ll come._

 

If she survived that long, Anna thought.

 

If the breaking remnants of her mind did.

 

Numbly, Anna nodded her head, starting a little as Hans laid a warm kiss against her cheek.

 

“There’s a good wife now.” He straightened, adjusting his waistcoat and glancing to the grandfather clock in the corner. “I’ll be off, then. I trust you’ll find more… appropriate ways to occupy your time in my absence than you have in the past.” He glanced to her, eyes firm and meaningful, and Anna bowed her head, something dark and angry turning over in her chest.

 

“…it’s over,” she ground out between her teeth, surprising herself with the bitter lace to the words. “It’s been over. I won’t see him again. Ever.”

 

Hans straightened his gloves, raising an eyebrow at her, lips tilting up into a hint of a smirk. “I know. But then you knew before, didn’t you?” His smirk faded, eyes darkening. “Tread carefully now, Anna. I’ve given you a second chance.”

 

He crossed the short distance between them, fingers firm and tight along her jaw. “But I don’t make the same mistake twice.”

 

He held her gaze for a long moment, until Anna finally faltered and looked away, biting hard against the inside of her cheek and nodding.

 

Satisfied, Hans released her, stepping back. “Be good until I come back for you, Anna.”

 

Anna watched him stride to the doors to their bedchamber, her hands fisted in the thick coverlet.

 

“…do you love me?” she asked, the words creeping from her throat before she had a chance to bite them back, and Hans stilled.

 

The bedchamber was deathly silent for a long moment.

 

Finally, Hans sighed, glancing back over his shoulder. “Anna,” he said in a tired voice, “you really shouldn’t have to ask these things.”

 

“…you’ve never said it,” Anna continued, something hysterical and broken rising up in her chest, and there was a fine tremor along her shoulders. “You’ve never said it. Not once.”

 

Hans’s eyes were dark and narrowed as he regarded her. “…you don’t make demands of me, Anna,” he said quietly. “You’d do well to remember that.”

 

With one last pointed glance in her direction, he strode purposefully to the doors, slipping through and closing them behind him with a firm, resounding slam.

 

Anna stared after him, the tick of the clock and the slow thrum of her heartbeat the only sounds in the room.

 

 _It’s not enough_ , she thought, still looking to the doors as her eyes began to well.

 

_It’s just not enough._

 

_—-_

 

Anna lay in bed until midday, as the sun rose steadily behind a thick blanket of clouds and a light snow began to fall.

 

She watched it from the windows, half-wrapped in the coverlet she’d pulled from the bed, her feet bare and cold against the marble floors.

 

She could read, she supposed, pressing her forehead to the glass and staring blankly to the distant fields. Or… practice needlecrafts or eat chocolates or do whatever… _things_ were considered ‘appropriate’ in Hans’s absence.

 

Anna sighed heavily, leaning hard against the window and wrapping the coverlet more tightly around herself. It was so cold in their bedchamber, shot through with an omnipresent drafty chill that never seemed to fade, all icy stone and marble…

 

She thought distantly to the soft warmth and comfort of the barn, and shook her head even as her heart turned over painfully in her chest.

 

She’d made her choice.

 

All that remained of those days were warm, pleasant memories to wrap around herself on days like these, when the whole of her world was reduced to a cold, empty room.

 

The snow began to fall more heavily as the morning wore on, all wet, heavy flakes dusting white along the grassy fields as Anna remained at the window, empty-eyed, staring into nothing.

 

She almost didn’t see him at first, trudging hard into the snow, head bowed, shoulders slumped as he came over the hill, up from the barn, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of a painfully familiar coat.

 

Anna felt her breath catch cold and tight in her throat as she unconsciously pressed her fingers to the windowpane and watched him.

 

Even from this distance, Kristoff looked as haggard as she felt, every line of his body screaming exhaustion. There was a rounded fall to his shoulders, a stoop to his back, and he barely lifted his head as he walked.

 

… _I’ve done this to you, haven’t I,_ Anna thought, biting back the welling sob that rose to her throat, and she ached for him.  

 

Kristoff didn’t look to the window, to the house, as he made his way down the path, to where a small-framed figure waited, and Anna stilled at the window, her heart clenching in her chest, fingertips cold along the glass, heartbeat drumming loud and hot in her ears.

 

One of the kitchen girls — Anna had already forgotten her name, but she remembered her face, heart-shaped and full, smooth-skinned and lovely, dark curls pinned neatly back as she worked.

 

Down along the path, she clutched a simple shawl around her shoulders with one hand and held a small satchel in the other, grinning wide as Kristoff came to stand before her, his arms crossed over his chest, silent and still even as she began to speak.

 

Anna pressed closer to the window, a creased line appearing between her brows, something hollow and awful burning deep in her chest as the girl laughed, as Kristoff crooked a hint of a smile.

 

She’d never seen him smile for anyone.

 

Anyone other than…

 

The girl turned soft eyes to him, holding out the satchel, and Kristoff took it from her, smile widening, warming just a little.

 

Anna’s stomach tumbled and twisted at the sight of it, but her eyes remained open, blank, staring.

 

 _Good,_ she thought, even as something cold and hollow seemed to seep into her bones, even as it felt as though her chest was suddenly empty and raw. _He heals fast. He’ll… he’ll move past it._

 

_…past me._

 

Kristoff deserved a good girl, a kindhearted one, she knew, and Anna closed her eyes and inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. He’d make a life for himself, a good one, down the slope of the hill, by the fields, by the jagged slope of the mountains, so close and so unreachable all at once.

 

The girl’s smile seemed burned into her mind’s eye, and Anna pictured seeing it flashing from within the faces of half a dozen bonny children, all soft golden hair and chubby cheeks, rustling around the girl’s skirts in the kitchens and tearing toward the field when their father came into view. They’d tumble over Sven, laugh as Kristoff hoisted them in his arms, up onto his shoulders, kiss their cheeks and ruffle their hair. He’d be bright-eyed and happy, so _happy_ …

 

…especially as his blushing wife came near, as he drew her into his arms, eyes soft and gentle as he… he…

 

Anna’s breath seemed to burn in her lungs, along her tongue, scalding harsh and endless like a swallowed match.

 

But not her.

 

Never her.

 

She opened protesting eyes, turned them to the field.

 

Kristoff had the satchel in hand, extracting a carefully-wrapped sandwich and a crisp apple, nodding gruffly to the maid and turning away. Her face fell, just a fraction, and she moved closer, only for Kristoff to cross his arms over his chest, eyes closed, fatigue and pain clear in the curve of his spine, the fall of his shoulders.

 

The maid stood quietly for a moment before nodding, shrugging, straightening her shawl and making her way down the path back towards the house.

 

Anna watched as Kristoff remained still for a long moment, before glancing up to the window.

 

Even across the distance, his eyes met hers, just for the space of a heartbeat, a breath.

 

Just long enough for his brows to draw tight, his jaw to set.

 

Before Anna could even press her hand to the glass, to scream to him through silent touch, he’d turned away, walking back down the path the way he’d come with heavy, labored steps.

 

Her shoulders shaking, Anna slowly turned and pressed her back to the window, sliding down to the floor, the coverlet draping awkwardly around her.

 

She closed her eyes as her stomach seemed to rise to the back of her throat, as the cold pierced through her.

 

 _Be a good wife_ , she thought, a hysterical laugh bubbling up within her chest.

 

A good wife who stared through a frosted windowpane to another man, a man she’d left behind even as her hands and heart ached for him.

 

A good wife who watched him smile with another woman, one who could love him openly, freely, and breathed a sigh of relief when he turned away from her.

 

Anna wrapped her arms around her knees and dropped her forehead against them, shoulders shaking on the first of a line of dry, rough sobs.

 

—-

 

The snow continued, lashing hard against the estate, driving-white and heavy, and Anna watched it fall even as she curled up tightly by the window.

 

There was a group of men out in the field, broad-shouldered and sturdy, shouting orders to one another as they set about mending this or that, performing some task Anna couldn’t begin to name.

 

Even from the distance, even within the endless woolen layers wrapped tight around him, she could see him, straight-backed and strong, shouting orders and gesturing.

 

He looked every inch composed, in control, the sturdy, unbowed servant who’d long since taken the reins of the estate in hand and managed it as best he could.

 

But Anna knew him.

 

Had come to know him as well as she knew her own heart.

 

Even from her place at the window, so far from the fields, she could see the tightness in his shoulders, the tension. He was rough in movement, quick and sharp, and Anna knew that if she could see his eyes over the scarf wrapped tightly around his nose and mouth, she’d see them burn with an exhausted fire, a determination to push through the last dying embers of strength.

 

Anna’s fingers tingled with the memory of the gentle slide of his against them, of her arms clasped warm and tight around him, of his hand against her hair, light, soft, comforting.

 

 _I know I hurt you_ , she thought to his distant form, huddling into the coverlet, pulling every ounce of warmth she could from within it. _But it’s hurting me, too. It hurts so much and I don’t know what to do. I don’t._

 

_Do you love me?_

 

It was such a simple question. Four words, laid out bold and plain.

 

Hans had seen them come, slipped past them with light, even footwork and cast Anna a pitying smile.

 

He was far too fast for such blunt weapons. Too practiced. Too clever.

 

Anna clenched her fists tightly in the coverlet, pressed her face in against it.

 

 _You’re my husband_ , she thought angrily to Hans’s absent form. _How can you not say it? How… how can you not **feel** it? _

 

The image that had shot through her mind earlier, of smiling children on a warm summer day, of love, of comfort, of family, returned to her then, but it was twisted, ruptured, tangled.

 

She pictured herself, swollen with child, still forced to kneel, to bleed.

 

Pictured herself tucking in her children at night with hands that shook, hands that dressed wounds behind closed doors, hands that were spattered dark with blood no matter how desperately she scrubbed at them.

 

Would he turn against them? Anna wondered, and her stomach twisted violently at the thought. Would he father her children, hold them in his arms, only to see her within them, see weakness and frailty, and turn bruising hands against them as much as he did her?

 

It was too much, far too much, and she dashed aside the coverlet and rushed to the washroom on unsteady legs, retching hard, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist until her stomach was empty, throat burning, and she fell back against the floor, her hair disheveled around her shoulders.

 

 _It’s only for the rest of your life,_ Anna thought, blank-eyed and numb. _It’s only forever._

 

It had been worth it when she knew it was true love, felt it deep within her heart, bone-deep and warm.

 

It had been worth it even as she suffered and broke, looked ahead to the fairytale ending, the happily-ever-after that surely awaited if she was patient and good, if she was kind-hearted and loved her husband with everything she had.

 

_Do you love me?_

 

She wasn’t sure she knew what love was anymore.

 

Anna slowly pushed up, forced herself to stand, bracing her hands hard against the side of the sink even as she met her reflection’s tired gaze.

 

 _Is this your happily-ever-after, Anna?_ she thought, biting her lip hard and narrowing her eyes at the sight of the dark circles beneath them. _Is this what love is?_

 

She closed her eyes and turned away, unable to stand it.

 

She had dreamed so many beautiful things from within the library of her childhood home, of warmth and patience, steadfastness and loyalty. Of her one true love, dashing and handsome on horseback, taking her into his arms and whisking her away from the broken life she’d lived thus far.

 

And he had.

 

Oh, he had.

 

If only she’d known how he’d turn and lock her here into this gilded cage afterwards.

 

Anna released her grip on the sink, wrapping her arms around herself and moving on heavy legs to the vanity, reaching with tired fingers into the top drawer and extracting the brilliant fire opal ring from within it.

 

 _Were you happy here, Christabel?_ she thought, tilting the ring over in her hand, watching as it caught the light as she slipped it onto her finger. _Did you learn to get by on just hope for something better, before it ended?_

 

_Did you love him?_

 

_Did he love you?_

 

_Could he?_

 

The light was fading fast as Anna moved silently back to the window, the snow falling in heavy, twisting sheets, the sky a deep, cold grey.

 

Kristoff was still working, back bowed as he lifted and pushed. He’d unwound the scarf from his face and discarded his coat, snow catching in his hair, along his shoulders.

 

 _Love_ , Anna thought, distantly, pressing her forehead to the windowglass.

 

A crooked smile over a broad shoulder as they raced through the forest.

 

Warm hands and a warm coat draped over her shoulders against the cold.

 

An encouraging word, a hand to hold as she grit her teeth and leaned into the mountainside, drew from her strength even as he reminded her of it.

 

Warmth and patience, as he held her hands to the bow.

 

Steadfastness and loyalty, as he held her, kept her safe, kept her warm.

 

Anna’s shoulders were shaking, her heartbeat pulsing hard and fast in her ears, catching high in her throat as she stared out to Kristoff, as he stopped, stilled, turned slowly to stare up at the window, oblivious to the wind and snow, and she felt his gaze as much as saw it.

 

He loved her.

 

God help them, he loved her.

 

Anna folded her hand over her heart, tried to slow its beating even as Kristoff stared to her, across the distance, through the driving snow.

 

Six days without him, without his warmth and nearness, and she ached for him, as much as she’d ever ached for anything.

 

 _I love you too,_ Anna thought, and something within her broke and mended all at once at the thought. _I love you and I miss you and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Kristoff…_

 

He turned away then, shoved his hands into his pockets and started down the hill, and Anna’s heart seized in her chest. Her feet and legs moved before her mind could even process what they were doing, and she flung open the doors to her bedchamber, tearing down the hall in only her thin nightdress, feet still bare and cold against the stone.

 

It was still impossible.

 

It was still madness.

 

But as Anna rushed past the kitchens, inhaling sharply at the sudden rush of wind and snow against her, ducking her head in close and making her way down the path, it was somehow everything she needed.

 

Because love wasn’t what she’d thought it was when she’d paged through her storybooks in her youth, starry-eyed and dreaming of a handsome prince.

 

Love was awkward and rough, unpolished… but warm, true, steady and supporting, holding her close and spurring her onward.

 

Love was Kristoff.

 

And she had to set things right.

 

—-

 

Anna was shivering violently as she finally reached the barn, the snow falling ever-thicker around her, catching in her hair, on her eyelashes, and gooseflesh rose along her bared arms even as she pushed open the door and set her numb feet to the warmth within.

 

The horses eyed her curiously from within their stalls, and Sven neighed happily, pushed against the door to his.

 

Anna moved quietly to him, reaching up with one hesitant hand to stroke his nose. “Hey boy,” she said softly, smiling a little as he pushed against her. “I know I haven’t been around lately. I know…” She swallowed hard against the rising lump in her throat. “…I know I left you behind. But I thought…”

 

She closed her eyes, dropping her hand to her side. “…I thought I was doing the right thing,” she said, voice breaking. “I thought… I just had to be good, I just had to listen and maybe… maybe things would be okay, maybe they would be _different_ , they would be just like… just like in the beginning…”

 

Anna clutched at her wedding ring, twisting it violently around her finger, dropping her chin to her chest. “I made a mistake, Sven,” she said, voice tremulous from unshed tears. “I made a _mistake_.”

 

“If you’re talking about heading outside in your nightdress in a snowstorm, yeah, that’d probably qualify.”

 

Anna slowly opened her eyes, feeling a fine tremor through her shoulders as she raised her head to see Kristoff standing in the doorway to the barn, his arms crossed over his broad chest, eyes settling warily over her.

 

“…hi,” she said, very quietly.

 

Kristoff was closed off, his jaw tightly set as he leaned up against the barn wall, still staring at her. “Why are you here?” he asked, eyes flicking away from her, and there was something rough and raw to his tone that made Anna’s heart turn over in her chest.

 

“…I saw you,” Anna said after a moment, taking a hesitant step forward. “From the windows.”

 

Kristoff pressed further back, away from her. “I work here,” he said flatly, offering up a nonchalant shrug, but his spine was rigid, shoulders tight and high, his fingertips and knuckles white as they pressed against his forearms.

 

“…I missed you,” Anna said, wrapping her arms around herself and attempting to hold her voice steady. “I missed you so much.”

 

Kristoff stared at her for a long moment before closing his eyes and setting his head back against the barn wall.

 

He didn’t speak.

 

Anna took another step forward, biting hard against her lip, pressing her hands tightly against herself even as she longed to stroke them over his shoulders, ease the tension, bleed her warmth into him.

 

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” she said quietly. “These past few days have been…” She closed her eyes, took a deep, shuddering breath. “…I’ve tried, Kristoff. I’ve tried and I’ve _tried_ and I can’t… I can’t be what he wants, I can’t keep… I can’t keep breaking like this.”

 

Kristoff opened his eyes and stared at her then, something pained and questioning within their depths, but he remained silent.

 

“…I think I was wrong,” Anna whispered. “It…” She closed her eyes tightly as the words seemed to pull roughly from her throat. “…it’s not true love.”

 

She opened her eyes and looked to him, shoulders heaving on a silent sob. “But I think I figured it out,” she managed, taking a slow step towards him. “I think… I think I know what it’s supposed to be.”

 

Kristoff stared at her, and Anna’s breath caught at the raw pain within his eyes. “Anna,” he said, voice strangely rough and unsteady as he crossed his arms more tightly over his chest, “don’t do this. Don’t…” He swallowed hard, drawing in an uneven breath. “…don’t do this and then make me say goodbye again.”

 

Anna took another hesitant step forward, her breath growing shorter, heart beating faster as Kristoff uncrossed his arms and looked to her, something deep and inscrutable in his gaze.

 

“…I don’t want you to,” Anna said quietly. “I don’t… I don’t ever want to have to hear you say that again.”

 

Kristoff was quiet, glancing to Anna as she absently chafed her hands over her arms, still prickling with gooseflesh even in the warmth of the barn. Wordlessly, he slipped out of his coat, holding it in unsteady hands even as he stepped towards her and gingerly draped it over her shoulders.

 

When he tried to pull away, Anna laid her hands over his, held him fast, even as she trembled.

 

Kristoff swallowed again, brushing his thumbs gently over her shoulders. “…I don’t know what you want from me, Anna,” he said after a moment, closing his eyes but keeping his hands clasped in hers.

 

Anna reached one unsteady hand to stroke gently over his jaw, tilting him to face her. “I don’t know, either,” she said, hearing the tears in her voice even as she held them back. “…but I know I want you.”

 

Kristoff stared at her, eyes dark in the low light. “Anna,” he said on a rough inhale, her name ragged and tired on his lips, “I can’t… I don’t want…”

 

There was a cold, dead weight in Anna’s chest then, leaden and heavy, driving deep to the pit of her stomach, and she pulled away from him, eyes wide with hurt.

 

“You…” she started, forcing her hands to still at her sides. “You don’t want me?”

 

The words seemed suspended in the air between them, desperate and wanting and foolish, and Anna closed her eyes, laid her palms hard over them as she willed her heartbeat to steady, her breathing to even…

 

A pair of arms came warm and tight around her then, drawing her close, and a gasp caught in her throat as Kristoff held her, pressing his cheek to her temple, all warmth and nearness.

 

“…I never said I don’t want you,” he said, and his voice broke on the words.

 

Anna trembled as she clung to him, stretched up on tiptoe and pressed her cheek to the hollow of his throat, breathed and counted her heartbeats. “I know,” she managed, fisting her hands tight against the back of his sweater. “I know.”

 

“I’ve tried not to,” Kristoff said. “I’ve tried harder than I’ve ever tried at anything in my life.”

 

He stroked one hand over her temple, sliding into her hair, gently pulling her back enough to look at her. “I can’t,” he said, voice breaking. “Anna… I can’t.”

 

Anna nodded, feeling the first warm tear slip down her cheek. “I know,” she said, voice shaking. “I can’t, either.”

 

The words were heavy between them, even as Kristoff curved his hand around her cheek and stared down at her. Anna could feel his shoulders trembling beneath her hands, could feel the unsteadiness of his hold even as she leaned closer, felt the brush of his nose against hers.

 

He hesitated, even as she felt his heart beat against hers, felt the barest brush of his lips.

 

“Yes,” Anna said, closing her eyes.

 

She barely had time to breathe before his lips were pressed warmly to hers, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head as he kissed her, gentle and soft even as she felt the rapid pulse of his heartbeat.

 

Anna leaned up on tiptoe, clutching hard at his shoulders as she tilted her head and deepened the kiss, pressing close, gently tugging at his lips with hers, her heart warming and filling at his soft sighs, the way he held her to him like something precious… something loved.

 

Kristoff pulled away from her after a moment, eyes dark, lips just barely ghosting over hers. “You okay?” he asked, voice unsteady.

 

Anna closed her eyes and brushed her lips over his again, breathing him in as he moved to wrap his arms around her back, holding her warm and steady in his arms.

 

“Yes,” she said, pressing her fingertips tightly to his shoulders. “I think… I think you can kiss me again now.”

 

There was a brightness to Kristoff’s eyes, a light mischief that Anna hadn’t seen in far too long, and she felt her lips tilt into a smile even as he pressed a quick kiss to them. “You’re so damn bossy,” he said, nudging her nose with his.

 

“Language,” Anna whispered. She slid one hand from his shoulder to gently cup his cheek, moving up to stroke her thumb warmly over his brow.

 

Kristoff smiled at her a little, something warm and soft and adoring in his eyes as he dipped his head and kissed her again.

 

Anna held him to her as they kissed, as he pressed closer, as his hands threaded into her hair, and she felt the beginnings of a slow burn coiling deep within her belly, something hot and needy and _wanting_.

 

She groaned a little at the back of her throat as she gently slid her tongue along his, just a gentle brush, the fire within her burning brighter, stronger as he pulled her closer and responded.

 

She had never wanted like this, never burned like this, and she arched up into Kristoff’s kiss, reached up to guide the hand at her hair slowly over her shoulder, down until it curved warmly over the swell of her breast.

 

Kristoff broke away suddenly, breathing hard as he rested his forehead against hers. “Anna,” he managed, moving his hand away, just far enough to stroke over her shoulder. “Anna, we don’t have to…”

 

Anna tilted her head up to silence his protests with a kiss, holding her lips to his and folding her hand over his. “I want to,” she murmured. “I want…” She closed her eyes, leaning against him. “I need to know that it can be different.”

 

Kristoff was quiet before stroking his hand down her arm, twining his fingers gently with hers. “Are you sure?”

 

Anna kept her eyes closed at the simple touch, willing her heartbeat to settle even as she felt her knees begin to shake.

 

_Rough hands grasping at her hips, spreading her open, sharp and rough and deep and pained as he whispered against her, held her fast, held her and held her and held her until her screams died in her throat…_

 

Kristoff gently squeezed her hand, kissed her cheek, her temple, her forehead, and she opened her eyes on a slow exhale.

 

“…yes,” she said, staring up at him. “Yes, I’m sure.”

 

He hesitated before nodding, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss and reaching down to hoist her up into his arms, carrying her towards the back of the barn.

 

“…sorry,” Kristoff said, awkwardly shifting her weight as he leaned down to turn the knob and push the door to his bedchamber open.

 

It was a very simple and small bedchamber, all told, little more than a narrow pallet of roughly-hewn wood and a chipped washbasin in the corner, the walls unadorned, the bedspread thin and worn.

 

But Anna’s heart beat faster in anticipation and want within its walls than it had in all her nights in the gilded chamber she shared with her husband at the manor house.

 

Kristoff gently set her down, closing the door behind them before gathering Anna back up in his arms and kissing her, a bit more forcefully, slanting his lips over hers with warmth, with want, and Anna leaned close and kissed him harder.

 

She started as the backs of her legs hit against the bed, breaking the kiss and breathing hard.

 

 _This is your coin_ , he’d said, as the crop whistled hard against her lower back…

 

_Kneel._

 

_Crawl._

 

_Beg._

 

“Anna,” she distantly heard Kristoff’s voice, felt the gentle touch of his hand on her cheek. “Anna… stay with me now, sweetheart. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

 

Anna swallowed hard, looking back at the bed. “I…” she started, unconsciously shying away from him a fraction. “…I’m okay. I just… I just need a minute to…” She closed her eyes, suppressing a shiver.

 

Kristoff was quiet before drawing her into a tight hug, and Anna laid her head against his shoulder.

 

“You don’t know what he’s done,” she whispered, feeling the telltale pressure of tears burning in her eyes. “You don’t know… what he’s made me do.”

 

Kristoff kissed her temple, rubbing his hands warmly over her back. “I could guess,” he said quietly. “You’re not the first girl I’ve found crying in the stables, you know.”

 

Anna nodded, closing her eyes and holding close to him.

 

Kristoff was quiet, gently stroking a hand over her hair. “Do you trust me?” he asked finally.

 

 _With my life_ , Anna thought. _With everything._

 

“Yes,” she said.

 

Kristoff nodded, pulling away from her and gently pushing his coat off her, not looking at it as it crumpled to the floor. His hands were warm against her bare skin as he curved them over her shoulders, as he bent his head and laid gentle kisses over her temple, her cheek, down along the curve of her throat and to the firm line of her breastbone.

 

“Do you trust me?” he asked again, drawing his hands down to the hem of her nightdress, nuzzling in against her skin.

 

Anna raised one trembling hand to stroke through his hair.

 

“Do you love me?” she whispered.

 

Kristoff stilled, closing his eyes for a heartbeat before looking up at her.

 

“Yes,” he said simply.

 

Anna trembled as she leaned down to press a warm, gentle kiss to his forehead.

 

“Then I’m with you,” she said softly, breathing the words against him, feeling the warm pull of them from deep within her chest.

 

She was still trembling even as Kristoff gently laid her back against the bed, closing her eyes as she waited to feel his weight press against her, holding her fast, tight, unable to move…

 

…but he just stroked her arms, her back, kissed her skin softly, reverently, even as he drew her nightdress up along her thighs.

 

Words and thought began to fade in the face of overwhelming sensation, to the cool night air sliding over her bare skin, to Kristoff’s gentle kisses along her skin, his fingers tightly entwined with hers.

 

She had never been touched like this, so intimately, even in all of her nights with Hans.

 

When Kristoff set his mouth to her, she gasped, arched up against him, even as he gently held her hips down with one hand and squeezed hers with the other.

 

It felt as though she were being pulled apart and stitched together all at once, and she bit back a cry at the delicious burn somewhere deep within her belly, one hand twisted tight into Kristoff’s hair even as the other clutched desperately at his as she came apart under the gentle caress of his lips and tongue, the world tilting at a hundred delirious angles that all seemed to scream his name on a broken exhale.

 

When his bare skin brushed along hers, not long after, Anna closed her eyes and pressed her face tight to his shoulder, waiting for the deep stab of pain, the sharp pull, the bite against her skin, but there was only Kristoff’s warmth, his arms around her, his lips warm and soft against her temple as he slowly began to enter her.

 

Anna’s breath was shallow and unsteady as she finally opened her eyes, tilting back enough to see the open adoration in Kristoff’s as he dropped his forehead to hers, his breath ghosting over her lips.

 

“I love you,” he said, voice rough and unsteady. “Gods, I love you, Anna.”

 

Anna pulled him down to her for another kiss, sealing her mouth over his and biting back a groan as he moved, deep and steady and measured, stoking the embers within her to a flame. She was clinging tight, wrapped around him like a climber vine, her breath coming in short pants as his stomach brushed against her just so and she fell to pieces again, biting hard against his shoulder even as Kristoff pressed tightly into her, holding her close, breathing her name into her skin.

 

He didn’t let go even as he pulled back a fraction, just enough to press a heavy, sated kiss against her lips, brush her nose with his. Still inside her, he kept his arms wrapped tightly around her and rolled them slightly to the side, tucking Anna in warmly against his chest.

 

“Anna,” Kristoff said, a breath and a sigh and a prayer all at once.

 

Anna turned her face in against him, his skin burning pleasantly along hers, legs tangled with hers, arms tightly around her, hands rubbing warmly over her back.

 

This was enough, Anna thought, closing her eyes and sighing as she moved closer, as Kristoff pressed a worshipful kiss to her temple, as she slowly began to drift to sleep, held safely in the circle of his arms, warmth and love and the promise of always wrapped tight around her.

 

So very much more than enough.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every single word in this chapter fought me. Every. Single. Word. I dearly hope that it’s not as obvious in the writing as I worry it is. 
> 
> Fair warning: we have officially entered the “dark” part of the story. 'Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate.'
> 
> (Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’d better hide.)

Anna woke slowly, a pleasant, easy warmth all along her limbs, seeming to burn brightly from within her chest, and she wondered at it even as she yawned and snuggled more deeply into the warm blanket draped over her.

 

She hadn’t dreamed the night before, Anna realized, turning in against the scratchy pillow beneath her cheek with a contented sigh. She’d merely slept, full and deep and warm, with a comfort and contentment she hadn’t felt since… since…

 

Anna started slightly at the feel of a strong arm tightening a fraction around her waist, of a snuffling sigh beside her brow. She lay perfectly still, eyes wide as she took in the feel of a very large and very warm body curled close to her, all bare skin and firm, sloping muscles, and her cheeks burned as the memories of the previous night came rushing back.

 

_Kristoff’s fingers intertwined with hers, anchoring and warm as his mouth moved over her, slick and hot and fairly worshiping against her skin as she felt a slow curl of fire begin to burn deep within her belly…_

 

_Kristoff’s arms tight around her as he lifted her hips and slid inside her, slowly, very slowly, and she’d clung to him, breathed hard against his shoulder and for the first time in her life understood why they called it making love…_

 

_Kristoff holding her, kissing her brow, telling her he loved her as he pressed her close, and she’d wrapped herself around him, heart so warm and full it nearly seemed to burst from her chest as she drifted off to sleep in his arms…_

 

Kristoff stirred in his sleep from where he lay spooned against her, pressing a sleepy kiss to her hair, and Anna closed her eyes and curled closer to him even as something sharp and bitter rose to the back of her throat.

 

The fingers of her right hand rose shakily to twist around the brilliant fire opal ring on her left, and it seemed to burn against her skin, driving deep into her chest even as it pulled her apart.

 

_You’re still a married woman_ , the voice in her head ground out in a harsh whisper. _And you couldn’t have defiled your wedding vows any worse than what you did last night._

 

Anna swallowed hard, closing her eyes more tightly, fingers twisting against her ring.

 

It was right. She knew it was right. She’d sinned against her marriage bed, given herself over to desire, lay down willingly beneath Kristoff and clung to him in the night.

 

Once, not long before, Anna would have left it at that, let the guilt wash over her, let it burn and twist and tear at her as she slinked away, _be a good wife_ repeating on an endless loop at the back of her mind as she broke heart, mind, and body to pieces yet again.

 

…but she couldn’t.

 

From the moment Kristoff had first pressed his lips to hers, from the moment she felt that warm rush within her chest, all the wounds scored deep into her heart, old and fresh alike, beginning to heal over as he held her… Anna knew.

 

Her heart belonged to Kristoff.

 

And, as he held her hands and stared down at her, as he pressed his forehead to hers and kissed her, slow and lingering, she knew that his belonged to her.

 

It wasn’t enough on its own to heal the still-weeping scars laid into her. Dappled bruises still ached dully along her skin, the sharper bite of fingernail marks scored thick along her sides still stung, and she still trembled at the memory of Hans’s hands bruising-tight around her wrists, of his barked commands whipping sharp across her, of being forced to kneel even as her blood ran ice-cold and everything within her screamed at her to run.

 

But, Anna thought, eyes still closed as she laid her hand over Kristoff’s, swallowing hard against the knot that rose to her throat… it was a start. To be loved fully and warmly instead of cruelly, to be held and comforted instead of broken.

 

And to be reminded, through silent touch and steadfastness, through kindness and warmth and friendship… that she was worthy of love.

 

And that she was strong enough to heal from what she’d thought it was.

 

Anna held back a contented sigh as she snuggled into the blankets, blindly turning over as she attempted to get comfortable… only to slip with a hard crash from the bed to the floor in a tangle of blankets and sheets and flailing limbs, her head spinning and eyes dilating as she attempted to reorient herself.

 

She distantly noticed Kristoff sitting upright in bed, one hand roughly scrubbing over his face as he glanced with bleary eyes around the room. “What the hell was…” he started, voice rough with sleep, words trailing off as he noticed Anna awkwardly pulling the heap of blankets around herself, staring up at him sheepishly.

 

“…uh…” Anna attempted, clutching the blankets close to her bare chest, “…I… uh… good morning?” She offered him a half-hearted smile.

 

Kristoff stared at her, hand dropping limply to the bed, eyes wide.

 

“…I…” Anna said, flexing her toes against the rough hardwood floor and averting her gaze even as Kristoff continued to stare at her, “…I think your bed is, uh, a little smaller than mine up at the house. Not that it’s a _bad_ bed or anything, it’s actually pretty comfortable… well, okay, sleeping with you was pretty comfortable, not so much the bed… not that sleeping _with you_ was, like, _ridiculously_ comfortable or anything, I swear you’re like a furnace at night, Kristoff, but I… it…” Anna shrugged and smiled bashfully up at him, fingers still twisting in the blanket. “…I liked it,” she said after a moment. “I… I liked it a lot.”

 

Kristoff was still staring at her, not speaking, brow furrowed in confusion. “…you’re here,” he said finally, something strange and inscrutable wrapped around the words.

 

Anna raised a curious eyebrow at him. “…I mean,” she said slowly, “I’m told it’s, well… it’s kind of rude to not stay over… after. Not that I’ve… _after_ ed that many times or anything, I mean, before last night I’d only _after_ ed with…” Anna bit her lip and closed her eyes for the span of a few heartbeats, pushing Hans out of her mind.

 

Kristoff shook his head a little, still staring. “I didn’t…” he started, swallowing hard, eyes bright and soft as he moved across the bed on shaky legs, reaching out to take Anna’s hand and pull her to her feet.

 

Anna was quiet as he sat at the edge of the bed, one hand curving gingerly along her cheek, eyes searching her face. “…I didn’t think last night…” His cheeks were pink in the low lamplight, and he closed his eyes as he inhaled a deep, shaky breath. “…I thought I’d dreamed it.” He opened his eyes and stared at her, and Anna’s heart turned over in her chest at the raw emotion within them, love and hope and hesitant fear all at once.

 

Anna raised one trembling hand to fold over his, taking a deep breath and letting the blankets around her fall to the floor. “I’m here,” she said on a soft whisper, stroking her thumb over the back of his hand. “I’m here.”

 

She wasn’t sure which of them moved first, as Kristoff’s hands tangled in her hair and Anna’s came fast around his shoulders, their lips pressed together in a firm, desperate kiss, Anna half-turned in Kristoff’s lap even as he gently laid her back against the bed.

 

Kristoff wrapped his arms tightly around her, peppering warm kisses along her brow, her cheeks, her lips, down along the side of her neck before he pressed his forehead to her shoulder. “…I never thought I’d see you again,” he said after a moment, voice tight, and Anna bit back a sob as she stroked her hand through his hair. “After… when you said…”

 

His voice trailed off as Anna nudged him, drawing him up and into a soft, warm kiss.

 

“I love you,” she said, resting their foreheads together, eyes falling shut. “No matter what happens, no matter what I said…” She tangled her fingers in the soft blond hair at his nape, brushed her lips over his. “…I love you.”

 

It was surprising and not all at once, how naturally they fell together then, Kristoff’s lips warm and soft against hers, hands stroking over her bared skin in a gentle caress, tangling together as the kiss grew deeper, more fervent, more urgent…

 

Anna yelped in pain as Kristoff’s hands curved over the skin just above her ribs, curving back beside her breasts, and he pulled back, eyes wide in concern as he glanced down to her.

 

Anna shook her head, attempting to pull him back down to her. “It’s fine,” she said. “It’s… it’s nothing.”

 

Kristoff said nothing, and Anna bit hard against her lower lip as his eyes scanned over her torso, over the fading bruises and lines, and she saw his eyes narrow, his shoulders tremble, saw the tightness, the anger rising up along his spine.

 

“Him?” he asked, voice tight.

 

Anna nodded, gasping and closing her eyes tight as Kristoff moved then, dipping his head down, and she froze, went rigid with fear as she remembered bruising-tight hands, remembered hurting and hurting and _hurting_ and…

 

There was a warm kiss against the largest of the bruises, curving down over her hip, the rough outline of a handprint.

 

Then another over her ribs, a gentle kiss sliding over her skin, and she slowly opened her eyes and watched as Kristoff silently laid his lips over every mark along her body, one hand stroking warmly over the soft curve above her hip.

 

“Never again,” he murmured against her skin. “Never, Anna. I promise. Even if it kills me.”

 

Anna’s eyes fluttered shut as Kristoff continued to kiss her, along her breasts, her ribs, her belly, the slope of her thighs, and she sighed contentedly as he once again set his mouth to her, still stroking the curve of her hip even as she arched up against the gentle press and slide of his lips and tongue.

 

Anna tangled her fingers gently against his nape even as she settled her head back against the pillow.

 

“I love you,” she said softly, smiling a little as Kristoff slid his hand into hers, gently twining their fingers together as he closed his mouth around her and Anna’s head fell back on a low moan.

 

Later, he whispered the words back to her, over and over, the shape of them ghosting over her lips as they made love, slow, unhurried, all clasping hands and searing kisses, foreheads pressed tightly together as they shuddered and clung and fell to pieces.

 

Anna wasn’t entirely sure what time it was as she and Kristoff finally pulled apart, just a little, just enough to kiss and stroke hands through sweat-slicked hair, all sated, gentle touches that ended with Kristoff laying his head upon Anna’s breast, nuzzling in against her skin, arms tight and protective around her waist.

 

Anna was quiet as she wrapped one arm around his shoulders and stroked his hair, frowning to herself as her wedding ring once more flashed brightly in the low light.

 

The damning voice within her was silent, but the familiar turn of guilt still rose up within her chest.

 

“Anna,” Kristoff murmured against her, and she closed her eyes and held him closer.

 

She loved him. Loved him in a deep, abiding way that had kept her whole as she was torn apart, before she’d even come to realize it.

 

But in the end…

 

…she was still Hans’s wife.

 

Anna closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she pulled gently away, leaning down to press a tender kiss to Kristoff’s forehead even as she drew her knees up to her chest and settled her back against the wall, avoiding his gaze.

 

“…Anna?” Kristoff asked hesitantly, reaching over to gently stroke her hair, and Anna dropped her forehead to her knees but didn’t shy from his touch. “…Anna. Sweetheart, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

 

“…I love you,” Anna said, her voice muffled by her knees but still audibly breaking. “I love you so much, Kristoff.”

 

Kristoff was quiet for a long moment. “…is… that what’s wrong?”

 

Anna looked up, eyes tight with pain. “No,” she said. “…yes. No. I…” She dropped her face into her hands, resting her elbows along her knees. “…I can’t go back to the way things were,” she said after a long moment, fighting back the tremor building along her shoulders. “I can’t let him hurt me anymore. I can’t. I won’t.”

 

Kristoff was silent beside her.

 

“… but I can’t pretend that this is okay, either. I can’t… I can’t be his wife and sleep with you like this, and I can’t act like it was just a one-time thing because it’s already been _twice_ and I really don’t want it to even just be twice and I… I know he’s hurt me, but I need it to be fair to both of you.”

 

Kristoff still said nothing.

 

Anna slid her hands from her face in frustration. “Kristoff, would you please say _someth_ …”

 

She trailed off as she noticed the look on his face, eyes wide, face pale, body utterly still.

 

“…where did you get that?” he asked.

 

Anna stared at him curiously, following the track of his eyes to the fire opal ring on her left hand.

 

“…my wedding ring?” Anna asked in confusion, twisting it around her finger.

 

“…that’s not your wedding ring,” Kristoff said, voice strangely inscrutable. “You wear a plain gold band.”

 

“…well, yeah, most of the time. But Hans gave me this one for special occasions on our wedding day.” She frowned a little, looking down at it. “I put it on yesterday. When I… when I was thinking about things. What… what I wanted to do. Needed to.”

 

Kristoff’s eyes never moved from the ring, and Anna frowned a little at him in concern. “Kristoff?” she asked, gently laying her hand along his forearm.

 

“…I’ve seen this before,” he said after a long moment, reaching out with one unsteady hand to pull hers closer and examine it.

 

Anna’s frown deepened, brow creasing worriedly as Kristoff tilted her hand, watching as the ring caught the light. “…I’ve seen this before,” he repeated. “On Christabel.”

 

There was something dark and unsteady in his voice, and Anna felt a cold slice of icy fear down her spine. “It…” she started, gingerly pulling her hand away, “…it’s a family heirloom. It would make sense if he gave it to her, too.”

 

“No, Anna,” Kristoff said, eyes fierce and insistent as he grasped her hands in his. “I saw it the day she and Hans left for their boating trip.”

 

He sat back on his heels, still staring down at the ring. “…she liked to get away sometimes,” he said quietly. “She’d have me saddle up her horse and have it waiting for her in the stables some nights. More and more of them the longer she was here. The night before, she’d…” Kristoff hesitated. “…she came in bleeding, all along her arms, her neck. She didn’t want to hear anything, just wanted to get out, so I kept my head down and let her ride.”  

 

He took a deep breath. “I’d almost hoped for her sake that she’d kept riding, but there she was, with him, first thing in the morning when I brought their horses up. Hans was being, well, himself, shouting orders and insulting everyone… but Christabel was just staring and wringing her hands together. I couldn’t say anything, not with him right there… so I just watched her, over and over again, just twisting her wedding ring around.”

 

Kristoff took Anna’s hand tightly in his. “It’s the same ring,” he said in a low, urgent voice. “ _It’s the same ring, Anna_. They never found her body after the accident, _how does he have this_?”

 

Anna stared down at their clasped hands, something dark and cold tumbling over in her chest.

 

“…the locked room,” she whispered, reaching to stroke trembling fingers over the opal.

 

“What?”

 

Anna raised her eyes to Kristoff’s, saw the fear and dread she felt reflected within them. “…yesterday,” she said slowly, “before… before he left. He gave me… all of these keys, to all of the locked rooms up at the manor house. But he… he told me not to go into one of them.”

 

_Anna… there are some things a man keeps solely to himself. Even from his wife._

 

Anna felt a sharp prickle of fear deep within her chest as she slipped the ring off with unsteady fingers, laying it in her palm and staring at it.

 

“…Anna,” Kristoff said quietly beside her, and Anna started at the rawness of his voice even as she looked to him, “please let me take you home. Please.”

 

Anna was silent, biting her lip and glancing back to the ring.

 

“Anna,” Kristoff said again, curving his hand around her cheek and drawing her gaze up to his, “something’s wrong here. I don’t know how he has that ring or what he’s keeping from you in that room, but something is very, very wrong here.” His eyes burned into hers as he stroked his thumb over her cheekbone. “Anna, _please_. I need you to be safe. I need to get you out of here.”

 

Anna laid her hand over his, brows drawn tight with unease, biting hard against her lip…

 

“No, no one’s seen him all day, Lord Westergard. He put in a lot of time yesterday, might just be resting it off.”

 

Kristoff and Anna pulled apart, eyes wide at the sound of the distant voice, Kristoff pulling Anna protectively behind him.

 

“Bjorgman’s rest patterns are of little concern to me,” a familiarly-aristocratic voice said from beyond the door, and Anna felt her blood turn to ice.

 

“He’s supposed to be in France!” Anna said in an urgent whisper, curling close to Kristoff.

 

“Stay here,” Kristoff said quietly, pressing a quick, comforting kiss to Anna’s temple even as he wrapped the blanket around her. “I’ll take care of him.”

 

Anna nodded, pressing herself up against the wall as Kristoff quickly dressed, throwing on his discarded pants and shirt and moving to the door in two long strides, closing it tightly behind him.

 

“See, there he is,” the unseen servant said in a too-bright voice. “Probably hungover or something, aren’t you, Bjorgman, you big…”

 

“Leave us.” Hans’s voice was tight and cold, clearly brooking no argument.

 

Anna slowly rose to her feet, carefully shifting her weight along the bed and creeping over to the door, pressing her ear up against the rough, worn wood.

 

“Sleeping so late in the day, Kristoff?” Hans asked. “Not like you at all. You do look like hell, though. That’s business as usual, at least.”

 

“Thought you were supposed to be gone for awhile,” Kristoff said, voice flat and dispassionate.

 

Hans was quiet for a moment. “Deals fall through sometimes, Kristoff,” he said. “Even ones that seem exceptionally promising at the outset. A little like women, really.”

 

“Nice. Wonder why they aren’t falling all over themselves to get to you.”

 

“Oh, the one’s enough for now. God knows she’s dumb as a post, but she’s useful enough for her primary purpose.”

 

Anna folded her lip in hard against her teeth, eyes narrowed as she clenched her fists at her sides and struggled to remain silent.

 

“Are you here just to insult your wife or was there something you actually wanted?” Kristoff asked, and Anna started as his weight settled against the other side of the door, holding it shut.

 

“There’s plenty I want, Kristoff. And one day you’ll understand that I always get what I want.”

 

There was the sound of a firm step, and Anna unconsciously took a step backwards.

 

“Always,” Hans said.

 

There was a heavy silence in the barn for a long moment before Hans spoke again. “But for now,” he said, “I’d settle for a full pantry. The kitchen staff informed me that you took an unsuccessful hunting trip not too long ago.”

 

“Not my fault the deer weren’t cooperating,” Kristoff said in a tight voice, and Anna managed a small smile at the memory of his arrow lodged in the rough bark of a distant pine.

 

“Yes, well. Maybe they’ll be more cooperative today. Get your gear together. I’ll meet you here in half an hour.”

 

“…what?” Kristoff’s voice betrayed his unease, and Anna pressed her hand to the door, tried to will her strength into him from the other side.

 

“I don’t repeat myself, Kristoff. Admittedly, the snow’s a bit thick today, but you’ve hunted in snow before, surely.”

 

“…I have, yeah. Does it have to be today, though?”

 

Hans was quiet for a moment. “Yes,” he said, voice dark and low. “I’m afraid it does. Schedules to keep, you understand.”

 

Anna felt a slow turn of unease in her stomach. _Don’t_ , she thought silently to Kristoff. _You’re right, something’s wrong… don’t… don’t…_

 

“…fine,” Kristoff said after a long moment. “Half an hour. I’ll be ready.”

 

“…no,” Hans said, and Anna could picture his slow, easy smirk even as the memory of it sent a chill down her spine. “You won’t.”

 

She heard his footsteps as he walked away. “Oh, Kristoff,” Hans called back. “If you just _happen_ to see my dear Anna around, do give her my best, won’t you?”

 

Anna held her breath until she heard the familiar heavy thud of the barn door closing, and then the door to the bedchamber opened quickly, Kristoff appearing in the doorway and gathering Anna up in his arms.

 

Anna wrapped her arms tightly around him, burying her face against his chest. “…what _was_ that?” she whispered, eyes wide even as Kristoff stroked a comforting hand through her hair. “I’ve… I’ve never heard him like that. Never.”

 

“Wish I could say the same,” Kristoff said in a rough voice, kissing the crown of Anna’s head.

 

“…I want to go home,” Anna said, closing her eyes as her words broke on a sob. “Kristoff, I want to go home.”

 

Kristoff was quiet, rubbing her back in wide circles and pressing his cheek to the top of her head. “Get dressed,” he said after a moment. “Hans’ll be back here in half an hour sharp. He’s never late. I’ll take him out to the forest, spend an hour or two taking down a deer.” He pulled back, gently curving a hand around her cheek. “You pack your bags and have them ready when we get back. I’ll saddle up Sven and we’ll get out of here.”

 

Anna laid her hand over his, staring up at him with teary eyes. “…will you stay with me? After?”

 

Kristoff hesitated, glancing down at her. “…if I can,” he said finally. “Anna, I… I still have debts to settle. I can’t leave those in good conscience.”

 

He started to pull away, only for Anna to hold fast. “We’ll figure it out together,” she said insistently. Her gaze softened a fraction as she interlocked her fingers with his. “Always, remember?”

 

Kristoff stared at her for a long moment before nodding, leaning down to drop his forehead against hers. “Always,” he said.

 

His arms were warm around her as he tilted his head to capture her lips in a firm kiss, one hand tangling in her hair, and Anna closed her eyes and leaned into the embrace, feeling his touch running hot and fast through her blood.

 

“I’ll keep you safe, Anna,” Kristoff murmured against her lips. “I promise.”

 

Anna nodded, turning her face in against their clasped hands. “Promise me you’ll come back to me,” she said quietly.

 

“I promise. Don’t worry about me.” He laid a warm kiss against her forehead before pulling away, moving to the far side of the room and retrieving his bow from behind a small table. “It won’t be just me out there,” he said meaningfully, offering Anna a small smile as she pulled on her nightdress.

 

Anna eyed him uneasily as he slung his quiver over his back and tugged on his boots.

 

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said, very quietly.

 

—-

 

The previous day’s snow continued to fall in thick, heavy sheets as Anna carefully made her way up to the manor house, one of Kristoff’s work shirts draped warmly over her shoulders. The estate was eerily quiet, not a soul to be seen, and Anna wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she slipped into the house and made her way up the stairs to her bedchamber.

 

The house was as still as the grounds had been, no servants milling about, nothing of the daily chatter that seemed to echo through the halls as any number of hands set about the task of keeping house.

 

Instead, there was a perfect silence, the kind that almost seemed to reverberate within itself, and Anna quickened her pace as she strode down the hallway.

 

The doors to her bedchamber opened on a long, dragging creak that seemed deafening in the still quiet, and Anna winced to hear it even as she slipped inside.

 

The room was exactly as she’d left it, unmade bed and all, and she distantly wondered if Hans had even visited it before his trip to the barn as she quietly retrieved her valise from the closet.

 

Anna hesitated for a moment as she ran her hands over the rough, worn leather of the suitcase, biting her lip and glancing around the bedchamber.

 

_No one’s saying you can’t come back,_ she thought to herself. _No one’s saying that you’re… that you’re just leaving your marriage outright…_

 

Anna closed her eyes, dropping her chin to her chest.

 

In the end… that was exactly what she was doing.

 

She lifted the valise in her arms and silently carried it over to the bed, dropping it down before heading to the armoire and retrieving the dresses she’d brought with her from home.

 

Home.

 

Home to a crumbling house, to a distant sister…

 

Anna glanced warily at the writing desk, feeling a sharp stab deep in her chest as she thought of the letters she’d written.

 

_You’re not surprised that you never heard from her,_ she thought to herself. _You know you’re not._

 

And she wasn’t.

 

But it still hurt.

 

Anna was quiet as she carefully folded the dresses and set them into her valise, bracing her hands on the sides of it and standing quietly for a long moment.

 

_Dear Elsa_ , she thought with a humorless smile.

 

_I’m sure you’ll be so happy to see me._

 

_To know that you were right._

 

Anna frowned a little, closing her eyes and sighing deeply.

 

Maybe that wasn’t exactly fair.

 

After all, it wasn’t like Elsa _knew_ what had happened. Anna’s letters had been vague even in their emotion — hardly cause for alarm.

 

Anna worried her lip between her teeth, glancing down to her valise.

 

…could she really do this?

 

Could she return home to the life she’d found herself suffocating in, the life she’d been so desperate to leave behind?

 

Shaking her head, Anna pushed the valise down, heart clenching in her chest at the dull, metallic sound that echoed through the room.

 

She reached with trembling hands to push the valise aside, staring down at the keys laying dark and unassuming on the bed.

 

She reached down and hefted them in her hands, fingers curling over the heavy iron key in the middle, blood running cold.

 

_The one room you’re barred from entering…_

 

_Some things a man keeps solely to himself…_

 

_It’s the **same ring** , Anna…_

 

Wordlessly, she slipped the key from the ring, holding it flat in her palm as she glanced to the windows, to the twisting strands of snow falling thickly in the fading light.

 

Hans and Kristoff would be home soon.

 

But not that soon.

 

Anna bit her lip as she stared at the key, finally closing her hand around it and moving silently to the doors, wincing again at the heavy, protesting creak.

 

The hall was still silent and growing darker as the day wore on, and Anna clutched the key to her chest, heart pounding as she moved slowly past any number of unmarked doors, eyes firmly trained on the last door to the right.

 

Her nerves were on fire, every angstrom of her screaming to turn on her heel and run, to finish packing her things and wait for Kristoff to return, to leave whatever secrets Hans held fast behind the lock.

 

But she had to know.

 

She had to know.

 

It was a nondescript door, identical to the other thick oak panels along the hallway, but this one had a heavy, old-fashioned iron lock set within it.

 

The keyhole seemed to stare at her, accusing and dark, even as Anna set the key to it with trembling fingers and turned.

 

The door opened easily, and Anna took a deep breath as she peered inside.

 

She felt a slight note of disappointment drop within her chest as she surveyed its interior. It seemed for all the world to be just an ordinary study: a long line of towering bookshelves set against the far wall, a pair of uncomfortable-looking armchairs, and a broad mahogany desk covered with papers.

 

There was an unlit lantern hung on an iron hook by the doorway, a book of matches on a small sideboard beneath it, and Anna set flame to wick with unsteady hands as she stepped fully into the study, lantern in hand.

 

She frowned slightly as she ran her finger along the edge of the desk, only for it to come away coated in a thin layer of dust. _Guess he’s not in here all that often_ , Anna thought, grimacing slightly as she wiped her hand along her skirts.

 

Lifting the lantern, Anna glanced quickly through the papers on the desk. Nothing too interesting there, either – balance sheets and memorandums, various notes on business that made little sense to her.

 

Anna’s frown deepened even as she continued to search. It all seemed so innocuous, she thought, glancing to the window. Why in God’s name would he be so adamant that she stay away from…

 

Her hand settled along a thick sheet of parchment, and Anna felt her blood run cold, nearly dropping the lantern as she recognized it within the low circle of light.

 

—-

 

Down in the valley, Elsa started, eyes wide, one hand accidentally knocking into the water glass beside her.

 

“…I’m sorry,” she managed, dabbing at the spill with her napkin even as Gerda fussed and quickly contained it. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Nothing to it, dear,” Gerda said, patting her on the back. “It’s just water. No harm done. Something upset you?”

 

Elsa was quiet, retrieving her fork and staring down at her dinner, willing her heartbeat to settle. “I don’t know what,” she said uneasily, setting her fork along the chipped edge of the plate. “Just… just a bad feeling about something.”

 

Gerda frowned as she returned to her seat opposite Elsa. “Well,” she said after a moment, spearing a piece of fish on her plate, “it’s to be expected, dear. Been a long time since you’ve come out for dinner like this. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

 

Elsa frowned, leaning back in her chair. “Hard not to,” she said, very quietly. She glanced to the empty seat beside her and away, not quickly enough to avoid Gerda’s observant gaze.

 

“…still nothing, I’m afraid,” Gerda said, folding her hands into her lap. “Although we’ve not had the mail yet today.”

 

“I know,” Elsa said quietly.

 

“How many letters have you sent her, dear?”

 

Elsa shrugged, not looking up. “I stopped counting after ten.”

 

“Well… you know how it is with new brides. Starry-eyed and forgetful as they come. I’m sure she’ll write to you soon enough, once the honeymoon phase has started to wane.”

 

“I should have known it would be too late,” Elsa said quietly.

 

Gerda regarded her carefully, but said nothing.

 

“I don’t blame her, you know. Not at all.” Elsa swallowed hard, bracing her hands against the arms of her chair. “I should have tried harder, Gerda. I shouldn’t have shut her out for so long.”

 

“Elsa, dear, it wasn’t your fault…”

 

Elsa stared at her. “Not all of it, no,” she said softly. “But I suppose I never truly thought she’d leave and shut _me_ out.” She smiled, tight-lipped and humorless. “Foolish, isn’t it? That I’d expect her to be better than I was.”

 

She sighed, standing and pushing her chair back. “The best I can do is hope that she’s happy,” she said. “That’s all I have left.”

 

The dining room was silent for a long moment, Gerda staring at Elsa with soft, sad eyes until a sharp knock sounded from the entryway.

 

Elsa raised her eyes toward the sound, eyebrows raised.

 

Gerda reached over and patted her hand comfortingly, rising to her feet. “I’ll take care of that, dear,” she said. “You just finish your dinner. It’ll be all right. You’ll see.”

 

Elsa nodded, silently sitting back down and staring blankly at the plate in front of her.

 

_Dear Anna,_ she thought distantly.

 

—-

 

Anna sat at the edge of the desk, blinking numbly into the distance, tears dripping onto the paper twisted tightly in her hands.

 

_Dear Anna_ , her sister’s familiar hand said, _I understand if you can’t forgive me. I understand if it’s too late. But I’d hoped… I’d hoped that somehow, maybe we could still be friends. I know by now that you likely don’t want to hear from me again, but you’re still my sister, Anna… nothing will ever change that._

 

There were nearly a dozen letters behind her on the desk, each crumpled and tear-stained, set neatly beside Anna’s own letters, still perfectly-creased and neatly-arranged, their seals still intact.

 

The first few letters had been several pages long, hesitant and awkward, detailed but somehow distant accounts of Elsa’s treatments as a child, of the damage they had done. She spoke seemingly not to excuse her distance, but to explain it. She ended each with a solemn plea for Anna to write back, for them to try to learn to be sisters again, even now that they were apart.

 

Anna had clutched those in her fists for a few moments, angry and unsettled, years-old bitterness turning over in her chest as she imagined Elsa exactly as she had always been, desperate and pleading, wishing her sister would talk to her, notice her, care about her.

 

It was the last letters that had stabbed through her, had caused her tears to begin flowing in earnest.

 

Elsa, begging Anna’s forgiveness.

 

Elsa, tearing into herself for not fighting hard enough, for pushing her away, for hurting her.

 

And finally, Elsa giving up.

 

_I would have written back,_ Anna thought, a hysterical sob rising to her throat. _I… I would have tried. I would have. You’re still my sister, too._

 

Anna dropped her head into her hands, her shoulders shaking with dry, silent sobs.

 

_Why did you do this?_ she thought towards Hans’s absent form, imagining him dispassionately collecting Elsa’s letters from whatever messenger carried them, bringing them into his study, carelessly setting them on his desk and locking the door behind him. _Why did you take my sister from me the one time she actually cared enough to try?_

 

Anna wrapped her arms tightly around her knees, curling in tightly on herself.

 

_I forgive you, Elsa,_ she thought on a broken sob.

 

_Please forgive me._

 

_—-_

 

“I’m telling you I don’t care if you’re the goddamn prime minister, I’m not giving it to you!”

 

Elsa glanced up from her dinner, eyes widening at the rough voice raising high from the entryway.

 

“And I’m telling _you_ , young man,” she heard Gerda’s sharp tone respond, “I’ll not allow some ruffian like yourself near a wellborn young lady, especially with that kind of language!”

 

Elsa stood silently from the table and made her way to the entryway, wrapping her arms tightly around herself and hesitantly stepping past the threshold.

 

Gerda had her arms crossed over her chest, glaring insistently at a young man in traveling clothes with a satchel slung across his chest and a letter held tightly in one hand. “I’ve told you three times now,” the man said through gritted teeth, “I was told in no uncertain terms to give this letter to Elsa Arendelle, and _only_ to Elsa Arendelle. And I’m not moving from this spot until I do!”

 

“What’s going on here?” Elsa asked quietly, eyeing the man.

 

He turned to face her, eyebrows raised appreciatively, a slow smile appearing on his features as he took a step towards her. “Well now,” he said easily, “if I’d known _you_ were waiting on the other side of my run, I’dve made it down here a lot faster. Now, _fast,_ he said, but surely he knows one single, solitary gold ring doesn’t buy much in the way of _fast_ these days, not with the price of grain and the old girl being so ornery in the winters…”

 

“…I’m sorry,” Elsa said, taking a step away from him and suppressing a sigh, “did you say you had a letter for me?”

 

The man eyed Gerda purposefully before handing the roughly-folded parchment to Elsa. “From the Westergard estate,” he said.

 

Elsa’s heart beat faster as she took the letter from him with quick, trembling fingers, tearing it open.

 

“There now,” Gerda said tightly, “you’ve done your duty. Best take your leave now.”

 

“You know, _ma’am_ , it’s customary to provide a bit of a _favor_ for…”

 

“ _Out_.”

 

The man grumbled loudly, shooting Gerda one final pointed glance before exiting through the front door, closing it behind him with a resounding slam.

 

Gerda glared after him for a moment before turning to Elsa. “The Westergard estate,” she said, glancing over Elsa’s shoulder. “Is it from Anna, then?”

 

Elsa had gone utterly still, deathly pale as her eyes quickly scanned over the letter’s contents, hands shaking as she reached the end.

 

“…Elsa? What is it, dear?”

 

She raised her eyes to Gerda’s, the letter clutched tightly in her hands.

 

“Fetch me my horse,” she said, voice dark and urgent.

 

—-

 

It was nearly dark by the time Anna finally pushed away from the desk, her tears dried stiff along her cheeks, and she turned and set Elsa’s final letter back on the desk and retrieved the lantern, lifting it high.

 

She froze as she noticed another door set back in the corner, half-obscured by one of the bookshelves, heavy and dark.

 

Frowning a little, she strode over to it, trying the handle and finding it locked tight.

 

Silently, she moved back to the desk, gingerly lifting the iron key in her hand and walking back to the door.

 

It turned in the lock with a heavy metallic _clunk_ that seemed to echo forebodingly through the study.

 

Taking a deep breath, Anna set her hand to the knob and turned.  

 

—-

 

The snow lashed tight around them as they rode, and Kristoff glanced ahead to Hans’s straightbacked form, completely untroubled by the snow and wind.

 

“We’re not going to be gone all that long, are we?” Kristoff asked flatly, glancing up at the darkening sky. Sven was uneasy beneath him, and he stroked one comforting hand over the horse’s broad neck.

 

“Just long enough,” Hans said simply, pulling back on the reins as Kristoff came up beside him. “One kill should be enough, I think.” He smiled softly. “For now, anyway.”

 

Kristoff eyed him, meaningfully drawing an arrow from his quiver and setting it to the nock as he slid down from the saddle, keeping his eyes on Hans as he dismounted.

 

Just an hour or two, he thought, closing his eyes briefly and thinking of Anna.

 

An hour or two until he could hold her again.

 

Until he could take her away from here, make sure she was safe.

 

“Deep in thought, aren’t you,” Hans said lightly, and Kristoff glared at him.

 

“Nothing that would interest you.”

 

Hans smiled at him, dark and humorless. “Oh, I doubt that.”

 

Kristoff hoisted his bow, narrowing his eyes a little. “Here and back, Hans,” he said, voice tight. “And don’t get smart. In a fair fight, we both know I’d kill you.”

 

Hans watched him start down the path, eyes flat and cold.

 

“In a fair fight,” he said quietly, reaching down to extract a long, sharp dagger from his boot, “you’d be right.”

 

—-

 

Anna’s heart pounded hard and fast in her chest, eyes wide, her hand clutching tight to the lantern as she stared through the doorway, to a long set of evenly-cut stone stairs curving downward, lamplight and shadows flickering red and dark along the walls.

 

Every nerve within her was on fire, her body threaded tight with tension, legs burning with the desire to run.

 

_They never found her body,_ Kristoff’s voice seemed to echo around her, turning her blood to ice, sealing her breath tight in her lungs.

 

Did she even want to know?

 

Could she leave without knowing?

 

Taking a deep, unsteady breath, Anna took one hesitant step forward.

 

—-

 

One step down, as a desperate sister rode into the night.

 

One step down, as the hunt ended as quickly as it began.

 

One step down, as a young wife’s newfound heart bled thick and red into freshly-fallen slow.

 

Down.

 

Down.

 

Down.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold on, guys.
> 
> It’s gonna be a rough ride from here on out.

As Anna made her way slowly down the twisting stairs, her bare feet chilled against the roughly-hewn stone, fingers curled tight around the dark iron of the lantern raised high before her, she thought, distantly, to the fairytales of her youth.

 

She’d been so sure she’d found herself within one, of a sort — of dashing princes, romantic and daring on horseback, of true love’s kiss, of happily-ever-after wrapped in pure-white silk.

 

But there were so many others in the thick leatherbound volumes set high on the shelves of the library of her childhood home, the ones Anna would cast childish eyes over, feel an unpleasant turn deep in her stomach as she skimmed over them, and quickly turn the pages, settle her heartbeat and remind herself that they were just stories, just stories…

 

She thought to them now, to crumbling pages of weeping children, of broken families, of bloodied brides.

 

Not all fairytales were happily-ever-afters.  

 

_Turn back,_ everything with in her screamed, even as she took another step down, as the lantern in her hand began to tremble. _Turn back. Turn the page._

 

One chapter ahead, and Anna knew she could just brush her fingers over the edge of a distant happy ending, to her hand anchored fast in Kristoff’s, wrapped within his warm hold, his safety, all love and friendship and strength, the waking morning after the nightmare she’d unwittingly found herself in.

 

Anna hesitated, glancing down.

 

Six steps.

 

The muscles in her calves were threaded tight, heels pushing back, nerves alight with the desire to run.

 

Anna closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

 

She had to know how the story ended.

 

Wordlessly, she continued down.

 

—-

 

The windows of the train were white with a thick, spidery frost, and Elsa traced her fingers delicately over the frozen fractals as the compartment rocked gently beneath her.

 

It was Gerda who had insisted Elsa take the train, not long after she’d grabbed her round her shoulders, just hard enough to snap her out of her panicked haze as she’d clutched the letter in her hand, eyes wide but determined as she made for the front door.

 

“And what are you prepared to do?” the nursemaid had asked, eyeing Elsa in concern even as her gaze continually strayed to the letter. “Charge up the mountain on horseback, in this weather, yet?” She reached one wrinkled hand to stroke Elsa’s cheek. “You must see sense, dear. Now, we don’t _know_ your sister is in trouble just because the letter said that…”

 

Elsa had pulled away, her mouth set in a tight, firm line, cheeks pale. “My horse,” she repeated, a fine tremor entering her voice even as she straightened. “ _Now._ ”

 

Gerda had stared at her for a moment before sighing, glancing to the letter and clutching her shawl tightly around her throat. “Elsa…”

 

Elsa closed her eyes, willing her heartbeat to settle, crumpling the letter in her hand.

 

**_…dangerous…_ **

 

**_…don’t know what he wants from her…_ **

 

**_…have to get her out…_ **

 

**_…she needs you._ **

 

“…I’m going,” Elsa said, and her voice held a firmness and strength she hadn’t heard within it in years. “I’m going whether you or anyone else helps me.”

 

She glanced to the window, to the snow falling thick and heavy in the dying evening light.

 

_Anna,_ Elsa thought, her sister’s name rising up within her chest on a broken sob, _I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please be okay. Please be safe until I get there._

 

Gerda, to her credit, had relented, but she’d insisted on calling a taxi for her young charge and setting her off towards the train station.

 

(She’d held Elsa just a fraction longer than necessary as they stood together on the curb, the snow falling gently around them, Elsa willing her shoulders to stop shaking.)

 

It had been nerve-wracking to be trundled along in the carriage, by herself, open and vulnerable and _alone_ , and Elsa’s breath had come in short, uneasy gasps, her hands wrung tight in her lap as she stared ahead.

 

_She remembered the creak of wagon wheels, remembered the doctor’s hand tight along her wrist as they rode into the night._

 

_“Your parents have paid dearly for us to rid you of this ill temperament of yours, girl,” he’d said in a low voice, fingertips bruising-tight along her skin. “If you don’t cooperate with us, the treatments will only grow worse…”_

 

Elsa flexed her fingertips along the frosted windowglass of her train compartment, slowing her breathing, staring out at the thinning trees rushing past in the darkness, all twisting lines and shadowed silhouettes.

 

How many years she’d let the darkness win.

 

How many years she’d let the shadows crowd close and drown out everything else around her.

 

Even…

 

_She needs you._

 

Elsa silently reached into her traveling cloak and extracted the now much-abused letter, crumpled and folded and torn, scanning the words written in a rough hand for the hundredth time.

 

They inspired so many more questions than they answered, Elsa thought, furrowing her brow in concern, in hesitation. Who was he? How did he know Anna? More to the point… how did he know Anna was in danger?

 

And why did he _care_?

 

Well, Elsa amended mentally, running her thumb over the thick parchment, that much she could likely ascertain from the postscript, a clear afterthought, written in a light, shaky hand, as though the scribe behind it had written it hastily, quickly, before he could decide to do otherwise.

 

_I know you love her,_ it read. _Please trust me when I say that I’m doing this because I love her, too._

 

She had to trust. Somehow, Elsa knew she had to trust, as unease continued to blossom within her stomach, as something dark and foreboding froze and grew within her chest as the train chugged higher up the mountain.

 

Her sister needed her.

 

She would be strong.

 

—-

 

There was a slow, viscous drip echoing darkly along stone, thick and terrible, and Anna felt a shiver snake down her spine as she set her feet to the landing, all cold, gray flagstones worn smooth from age.

 

There was a tall stone arch ahead of her, leading into a darkened room still untouched by the faint glow cast by her lantern.

 

_…it’s just a basement,_ Anna attempted, taking one hesitant half-step forward, the spill of lantern-light around her revealing little more than another expanse of stone floor and wall. _Just… a very, very dark basement in a very old house._

 

A basement kept under lock and key, she remembered, thinking to the study above her (how very far above her, she wondered – the stairs had twisted almost endlessly, spiraling down and down until Anna felt as though she’d entered another world, something dark and hidden, not meant for human eyes).

 

_Some things a man keeps solely to himself…_

 

Anna took another step forward, glancing up at the arch as she slowly made her way into the room beyond it, her fingertips brushing over the nearby wall.

 

_You really don’t know your husband very well, do you?_

 

Anna swallowed hard and closed her eyes for a heartbeat at the memory of Kristoff’s words.

 

_Stronger than you think you are_ , she forced herself to remember. _Stronger than you think you are_.

 

Anna cried out as her fingertips caught against the wall on a sharp bite, and she drew her hand back, eyes widening at the thin, bloodied line swelling along the pads of her first two fingers.

 

Wincing, Anna set her fingers to her tongue, easing the stinging cuts even as she tasted the bitter metallic tang of blood filling her mouth.

 

_What **was…**_ Anna thought, half-turning and raising her lantern to regard the wall beside her with curiously-narrowed eyes.

 

Her eyes widened then, stomach turning over with a deepening sense of dread as she looked to the glinting row of curving knives hung carefully along the wall, no two alike apart from the gleaming polish of their blades.

 

Anna’s head tilted back seemingly of its own accord, her eyes growing even wider as she raised her lantern and gazed up the expanse of the wall, up to the vaulted ceiling.

 

Dozens of knives, hooks, swords, chains. Strange implements with dull iron spikes, lengths of studded wire, all silver-wicked shine as Anna cast her lantern-light over them and her heart beat faster in her chest.

 

A butcher’s tools, she thought distantly, the sweep of lantern-light shaking along the wall as she struggled to hold steady.

 

With an absent butcher.

 

Anna clutched at the lantern with white knuckles, a cold, heavy dread growing in her chest as she thought to the distant mountain, to the set determination of Kristoff’s jaw as she glanced back to him before stealing back to the house, to his warm embrace, his gentle kiss…

 

…to the cold amusement in Hans’s tone on the other side of the door as they spoke in the barn.

 

_Please be safe, Kristoff,_ Anna thought, something sharp and hysterical welling up in her chest as she closed her eyes. _You promised._

 

_But not all fairytales have happy endings, Anna_ , something whispered darkly inside her.

 

She could swear she heard Hans’s voice slipping easily around the syllables, and she trembled as she took a deep breath and turned her gaze fully to the underground chamber.

 

—-

 

_Anna is pale and beautiful beneath him, her hair a soft auburn halo against the pillow, eyes soft and bright as they stare adoringly into his._

 

_He strokes one hand gently over the sloping curve of her hip — dear god, how he’d longed to touch her — and she luxuriates against him, smiles and stretches, leans up to kiss him._

 

_She tastes of starlight, of love, of home._

 

_He can’t stop touching her, can’t stop feeling her smooth skin beneath his palm. He strokes his hands over the bony ridges of her ribcage, cups her breasts, strokes his thumbs over her sternum, maps every hollow and curve of her body, memorizes them, holds them to him in case it ends and he finds himself once more alone in an empty bed, gasping into the night, hands and heart burning, aching for her._

 

_“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he murmurs, and it’s trite as it falls from his lips but Anna smiles, curves her lips in against his jaw and presses a warm, lingering kiss against it._

 

_“No,” she says, and he can hear the mischievous lilt to her voice even as she nuzzles in against him. “Tell me.”_

 

_He laughs, and it’s rusty but so very open and genuine and he can’t remember the last time he did it as he wraps Anna tightly in his arms, her laughter twining with his, and somehow they’re together, somehow they’ve finally fallen together, all warm, clasped hands and beating hearts erasing the distance between them, erasing the span of lonely years that bound them together even as they were apart._

 

_He’s never loved anyone, anything like this._

 

_“Keep me safe,” he hears her murmur against his skin, and he can’t pull her close enough to banish the subtle fear in her words, even as he cradles her to him, kisses her, feels her heart beat beside his._

 

_“Always,” he tells her, but he’s suddenly cold, so very cold, ice splintering through him, frost catching in his blood, freezing in his chest. He furrows his brow, tries to repeat it, but his tongue is thick in his mouth and he can’t form the syllables._

 

_He tries to pull Anna closer, but she’s cold in his arms, utterly still, and he can’t move, even as his mind screams at him to keep her safe, **keep her safe** … _

 

_He gasps, a sharp bite along his skin, driving deep into his back, and Anna fades away, very slowly, and everything is cold and white, so very, very white…_

 

Kristoff opened his eyes slowly, face and hands numb, whiteness at the edges of his vision and the faint, distant sensation of being dragged bodily registering somewhere at the back of his mind.

 

He winced sharply as the dragging stopped, as his legs thumped heavily against the ground, and he groaned as the sharpness at his side intensified, as something roughly grasped at the side of his coat and turned him face-up.

 

There was a frantic stir of warm breath in his face, a desperate, frightened whinny, and Kristoff blinked, focused his swimming vision on Sven leaning down over him, the horse pawing at the ground in irritation, canting his head towards the path.

 

“…Sven,” Kristoff said, and his voice sounded muffled and weak. “…what…”

 

Sven leaned down further, eyes wide with fear even as Kristoff grasped his bridle in one weak hand and Sven pulled him into a sitting position. “Thanks, buddy,” he managed, breath catching in his throat at the sudden agonizing pain all along his side.

 

His eyes widened as he glanced around him, dimly noting that the snow along the short distance that Sven had dragged him was dark with blood.

 

Very gingerly, Kristoff reached to his side and probed his fingers along his flesh, breath hissing sharp between his teeth as they dipped into a thick, pulsing gash curving just below his ribs.

 

Too deep, he thought, distantly, drawing his fingers back red-slick to the knuckle. He started to laugh before wincing at the pull of breath into his lungs, sharp and painful.

 

_Leave it to Hans to never go for the quick kill,_ Kristoff thought, lips tilting up into a humorless smile even as his posture slumped.

 

It had been so quick, so quick he hadn’t even had time to draw the arrow already nocked to his bow before Hans had withdrawn the dagger with a sickening, sucking pull. He’d barely seen the bright-red glint of the blade, barely had time to register the pain before a closed fist came sharp against his jaw, before he’d fallen to the snow and blackness had surrounded him.

 

Sven pushed his muzzle against Kristoff’s cheek, snorting and neighing frantically, but there was darkness curling around the edges of his vision, even as he blinked into the night…

 

_…night._

 

Kristoff’s eyes widened, and he pressed his hand firmly to his wound as he glanced up to Sven. “How long have I been out, buddy?” he asked, a slow sense of dread creeping up along his spine.

 

Sven shook his head and stamped his hoof impatiently, neighing and glancing back to the path, eyes frantic.

 

Kristoff felt his heart beat faster, pressed his hand more tightly to his side as he glanced around the forest, squinting into the thickly-falling snow.

 

Hans was gone.

 

And that meant…

 

“… _Anna_ ,” Kristoff gasped.

 

Sven whinnied in response even as Kristoff grasped his bridle in one hand, nearly doubling over even as he hauled himself to his feet.

 

Even through eyes narrowed in pain, he glanced down to his discarded bow and quiver, lying dusted with snow, and leaned down to gather them in his shaking hands.

 

“Steady, boy,” he gasped as Sven tried to pull him up. Kristoff drew in a sharp breath through clenched teeth as he slung the bow and quiver over his shoulder and mounted the horse, taking the reins in hand. “Steady now.”

 

Kristoff was breathing heavily as he leaned forward in the saddle, reaching into his pocket with his free hand and retrieving a handkerchief. He carefully set it along the wound, ignoring the wet push of the fabric against his skin as he held it tight.

 

Sven glanced back to him with worried eyes, snuffling a question.

 

Kristoff closed his eyes, feeling the warm liquid rush along his hand.

 

“Can you ride, Sven?” he asked, very softly.

 

Sven nickered at him, eyes still wide with worry.

 

Kristoff shook his head, eyes still closed. “…don’t worry about me,” he said. “ _Go._ ”

 

Sven hesitated only a second before he took off down the path in a hard gallop, head lowered, hooves digging into the snow.

 

Kristoff grit his teeth as he held on, focusing on the deep pull of his breath as he stared ahead into the night.

 

He didn’t know how much of a head start Hans had gotten.

 

He didn’t know how badly he was injured, didn’t know how much blood he’d already spilled out onto the forest floor.

 

_‘I love you…’ Anna’s forehead pressed warmly to his, her arms around him, soft and sweet and strong, so very strong… ‘No matter what happens… I love you.’_

 

_Wait for me, Anna,_ Kristoff thought, gritting his teeth harder and pressing his hand to his side. _Be safe and wait for me._

 

—-

 

Anna’s eyes were wide, her hands unsteady as she stared into the hidden chamber, the thin light of her lantern casting a warm glow that stood at sharp contrast to the scene before her.

 

She remembered, very faintly, in one of the books from Hans’s personal library, the slim, leatherbound volumes of twisted pain and misery, seeing tables like these, all rough wood and iron shackles.

 

There were two, set up along the far wall… but thick with spikes and razor-wire, the sharp metal glinting dully in the light, restraints of iron and polished leather neatly hooked at either end.

 

Suppressing a shudder, Anna turned her eyes away from them and moved on unsteady legs further into the room. There was another table, small and made of a shining darkwood, and she felt a slow, uneasy turn in her chest as her lantern-light passed over the trio of skulls arranged along its surface.

 

_…just ornamentation,_ Anna thought, a bit desperately, pressing careful fingers to the table surface. _Just… just…_

 

A terrified scream froze high in her throat as he hand came away from the table wet and red, and she glanced to the tablelegs, took in the light sheen of the wood, the dark-red stain of the tabletop, and stumbled away from it, pressing her hand to her mouth.

 

_Go,_ something high and hysterical pleaded from deep within her. _You already know too much now, just **go…**_

 

Anna turned quickly, hazarding the briefest glance around the rest of the room, the desperate flight rising up within her dying as quickly as it appeared.

 

What would have most horrified a normal person, she wondered, distantly, even as she stared, utterly blank, to the far wall.

 

The twin skeletons bound together with iron shackles, hunched over in the corner, bones bleached white with age?

 

The carefully-preserved wedding dress, neatly-pressed and draped over a headless mannequin?

 

Those were enough to set Anna’s blood to ice, to stab needles of fear all along her spine, freeze her breath in her throat.

 

But then, silent and dark along the far wall, there was the heavy stone sarcophagus, seated upright, its lid slightly opened, almost as if to beckon her forward in invitation.

 

Anna trembled violently even as her feet seemed to move towards it of their own volition, lantern still held high.

 

_Don’t_ , the increasingly-hysterical voice begged again. _You don’t need to know, you don’t need to know what’s in there, just run, Anna, run!_

 

Anna bit back a frightened sob even as she continued forward, not blinking, heartbeat pounding hard and fast in her ears.

 

_They never found her body_ , she remembered, the lantern-light dancing wildly around her as she shook.

 

No.

 

She had to know.

 

She was terrified that she already did.

 

Drawing in a deep breath, Anna set the lantern down, slotting careful fingers into the space behind the heavy stone lid. She paused for a long moment, shoulders shaking violently, before starting to pull.

 

_It’s not…_ she thought desperately. _It can’t be… no one… no one could…_

 

Her world went dark, tilting at a hundred angles as the lid fell open, and Anna stumbled back and fell to the floor, dimly noting the hot rush of blood all along the front of her dress even as she stared, wide-eyed and horrified at the limp figure impaled on the thick spikes within the sarcophagus, dark hair still curling along her bared shoulders.

 

Anna clutched her hands to her mouth even as her eyes fell to the figure’s left hand, hanging down along the spikes.

 

Its ring finger had been cut off.

 

Anna’s breath came short and quick, rising high in desperate bursts as she noticed the small note pinned delicately to the decaying fabric of the figure’s dress.

 

_Find what you were looking for, my dear Anna?_ Hans’s familiar hand read.

 

She moved.

 

On legs that shook beneath her, across cold stones slick with blood, Anna ran, toppling the lantern, stumbling her way through the dark, blindly rushing up the twisting stairs, her breath coming in terrified gasps as she reached the study.

 

She didn’t stop until she reached her bedchamber, slamming the doors behind her and sliding down the wall, hands clenched tightly to her mouth as a scream finally tore from her throat.

 

It echoed, long and high and desperate for long moments, her eyes wide, shoulders shaking, and she tore the opal ring from her hand with her injured fingertips and flung it as hard and as far as she could across the room.

 

_Christabel,_ Anna thought, half-hysterically, the image of her predecessor’s lifeless form burned into her mind even as she closed her eyes, tried to blink it away. _Oh dear God. Christabel._

 

 

Anna slid her hands down and clutched them tightly to her chest, willing her heartbeat to steady even as she let out a sound somewhere between a scream and a sob.

 

_How many others, Hans?_ she thought, thinking of the bones scattered around the basement. _How many others? Did you invite them down there as well? Did you give them the keys to your torture chamber so they could…_

 

_So they could…_

 

Anna’s eyes widened in terror, a cold weight thumping deep in her chest at the realization.

 

The keys.

 

The note.

 

_He knew,_ she thought, blood running cold. _He **knew.** _

 

Anna quickly staggered to her feet and rushed over to her half-packed travel case, hands trembling as she threw her few remaining dresses inside, heart pounding.

 

He’d known that she would go into the locked chamber.

 

And he’d known exactly what she would find when she did.

 

Anna shut the valise with unsteady hands. It took her three tries to fasten the clasps, her fingers slipping desperately along the shining brass.

 

She glanced down to her dress, another scream bubbling up in her chest as she took in the splatter of blood all along the front of it.

 

_I’m so sorry, Christabel,_ she thought, pressing her hand to her dress and sobbing silently. _I’m so sorry. Once I’m out of here… I’ll make this right. I promise. I promise._

 

Anna turned fearful eyes to the darkened window, to the mountain she knew lay beyond the fields and forests, and a sickening sense of dread coiled low in her belly.

 

Kristoff was still in the forest with Hans.

 

_He’s strong,_ Anna thought, a bit desperately. _He’s strong. He’s strong and he’s armed and he knows those woods, he knows Hans…_

 

A series of flashes, of blood stains and broken bones, of Christabel’s body hanging still and silent on upturned spikes, and Anna wrapped her arms tightly around herself on a sob.

 

_Kristoff,_ she thought, _please be okay… please… please…_

 

She glanced up sharply as the door to the bedchamber opened. _Thank god, thank you for keeping him…_

 

Her heart stopped heavy and cold in her chest as Hans stepped into the room, straightening the cuffs of his shirt, eyeing her with a faintly amused expression.  

 

“To answer your first question,” he said lightly, shutting the door behind him with a gentle thud, “the hunt was a successful one.”

 

Hans smiled at her, all sharp, white teeth, and Anna stared at him, wide-eyed and terrified.

 

“Unfortunate for you, I suppose,” he continued, closing his eyes on a soft sigh before opening them and leveling Anna with a dark gaze. “But ultimately far more of a disappointment for me.”

 

He turned, setting his hand to the lock at the broad doors behind him

 

“Now, my dear Anna,” Hans said easily, offering Anna a gentle smile, “I think you and I are very overdue for a talk.”  

 

He turned the lock with a heavy, ominous _clunk._


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more after this, plus the epilogue. We’re almost there, guys. Hang on tight. 
> 
> (I'd like to note that each of the four main characters gets a pretty serious badass moment in this story. Please enjoy Hans’s and Elsa’s in this chapter. Kristoff and Anna will get their turn in Chapter 13.)

Elsa’s eyes were narrowed purposefully, her breath freezing in the air before her in short, tight bursts as she stared at the large-framed station attendant, willing the tremor shooting down her spine to settle.

 

The man sighed, half-glaring at her as he glanced to the train behind him. “I’ve told you twice now, miss,” he said, voice somewhere between frustration and exasperation, “I can’t send you up to the Westergard station without express permission from Lord Westergard himself. It’s private property.”

 

 

Elsa closed her eyes, drawing in a long, slow breath even as she ground her teeth together.

 

“I have,” she said again, very deliberately, each word snapping sharp into the cold night air, “to get to my sister.”

 

The man eyed her carefully, and Elsa forced herself to meet his gaze head-on, hands clenched into tight fists at her sides even as some distant, long-broken part of her wished for nothing more than a small, dark place to hide.

 

The train ride had already been nerve-wracking enough – Elsa had pressed close to the window for the duration, huddled into the silence and willed the train beneath her to move faster as the sense of dread coiling low in her stomach deepened and grew.

 

She’d lost count of how many times she’d read the letter.

 

How many times she’d felt a now-familiar frisson of fear crawling along her spine as she did.

 

There was no way of knowing that what it said was right, that it was founded – no way to know objectively that Anna was in harm’s way.

 

But somehow…

 

Elsa knew.

 

Deep down, she knew that Anna was in danger.

 

And she would find a way to get to her.

 

“…please,” Elsa said, after a moment, opening her eyes and fixing the attendant with a beseeching look. “Please.”

 

The man looked at her, eyes softening just a fraction. “Miss,” he said, “I would if I could. Believe me. But it’s just not possible.” He glanced up at the darkened sky and frowned. “Not likely the trains would even be running up the mountain much farther in this snow, anyway. Not a long trip, all told, just a few miles, but the storm’ll be stronger further up. Now, if you’d like, you can come back to the station in the morning and we’d be happy to call a coach for you…”

 

“ _No,_ ” Elsa insisted, surprising even herself at the desperate edge in her voice. “I need to know what’s going on. I need to get up there.”

 

The man regarded her for a moment before sighing and scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, miss,” he said, voice firm and resolute as he leveled her with a meaningful stare. “If I were you, I’d settle up at the Green Barrel Inn across the way – get a hot meal, a few hours’ rest.” His eyes were not unkind as he glanced to the rumpled traveling cloak wound tight around her shoulders, to the pale wash of her cheeks and the dark circles beneath her eyes. “Looks like you could use a bit of a rest, if you don’t mind my saying.”

 

_I’ll rest when Anna’s safe,_ Elsa thought desperately. _Not a moment sooner._

 

But the man turned away, glancing back to Elsa briefly before making his way down the station platform and to the dimly-lit office, and she could think of no further pleas to offer to make him turn back.

 

She stood on the platform for a long moment, head bowed, snow swirling thick and cold around her as she finally sighed and stepped down, wrapping her cloak more tightly around herself as she headed for the station entrance.

 

It was a rural station, little more than a single platform set onto rocky ground at the base of the mountain, with a narrow, dusty road snaking alongside it. Elsa squinted through the snow to a small whitewashed building across the road, warm lanterns set in its frosted windows, a weather-beaten sign with the word “INN” painted in a rough hand swinging gently in the wind.

 

Elsa bit her lip and glanced to the station behind her, closing her eyes on a sigh.

 

She’d left Anna alone for years now, she thought, a slow turn of guilt twisting at her stomach even as she began to walk towards the inn.  

 

One more night wouldn’t make much of a difference.

 

—-

 

The bedchamber was deathly silent as Hans lifted his hand from the lock, turning his gaze, unblinking and faintly amused, to Anna.

 

Anna’s breath was short and shallow as she clenched her hands in the fabric of her skirts, her gorge rising and cheeks paling as her palms stroked over the cold, still-wet blood stained along them.

 

_Be strong, Anna,_ she willed herself, even as something frightened and hysterical broke open in her chest, wrapped tight and splintered around an unspoken scream. _For the love of god, be strong._

 

Hans took a step towards her, eyes gleaming-bright and lips turning up into a small smile as Anna flinched. “Not expecting me back so soon, were you?” Hans asked lightly, raising an eyebrow at her.  

 

Anna remained quiet, even as her stomach seemed to lurch violently at the sickening squelch of blood beneath her hands.

 

“The deal in France fell through, I’m afraid,” Hans continued. “Disappointing… but not altogether unsurprising. It’s so very difficult to find loyal partners these days.” His eyes were dark as he took another step forward. “Loyal. Steadfast. Abiding.”

 

Another step, another fierce glint of a smile, predatory and sharp, and Anna tried to slow her breathing even as her heartbeat quickened. “But fortunately I have you to come home to, my dear Anna,” he said. “My sweet, devoted, utterly _faithful_ little wife.”

 

A fierce tremor shook her shoulders, but Anna remained standing, still, silent.

 

Hans’s eyes flicked over to her travel case, to the bits of fabric sticking out from beneath the hinged lid, to the smudges of red along the shining brass clasps. “…planning a trip, are you?” he asked, moving closer towards Anna, smile widening as she faltered and took a step back, the backs of her legs pressing tight against the bed. “Surely you know it’s not safe to travel alone, Anna. Not with so many dangerous creatures lurking about.”

 

Anna could almost feel his nearness as he drew closer yet, still the portrait of relaxed amusement, pupils dark and dilated in the lamplight.

 

He reminded her of the sleek, dark cat she’d seen as a child, the one that skirted around the forest edge surrounding her childhood home, all lithe, lazy movement and regal bearing as it watched a small fieldmouse scurry about nearby.

 

How content it had been as it reached out with sharp dagger-claws and ripped out its throat.

 

Gentle fingers stroked lovingly over the blood-spattered fabric of her bodice, and Anna jumped, pulled back and raised her shaky gaze to meet Hans’s, still bright with amusement and derision. “Seems you’ve already learned that lesson, though,” he murmured. “Got into a bit of trouble, I see. I hope you’re not too badly injured.”

 

He curved one gentle hand around her cheek, and Anna’s heart seized in her chest at the soft touch of his fingertips, mocking-sweet and tender. “…the blood,” she managed, voice dragging rough and unsteady from her throat. “It… it’s not mine. It’s not mine.”

 

“Oh? Whose is it, then? There’s so very much of it, Anna.”

 

_It’s hers,_ she thought, half-hysterical, frozen in place even as gooseflesh prickled along her arms and the hair on the back of her neck rose up. _It’s hers and you know it._

 

Her knees seemed weak beneath her, and she stumbled another half-step back, eyes wide but unable to fall away from Hans’s piercing gaze.

 

Hans was quiet for a moment, trailing his eyes over the lines of Anna’s body. “I see,” he said. “I hope that whoever it belongs to is all right, then.”

 

His eyes were dark, smile fading into a tight set of lips and jaw, harsh and unyielding, and Anna’s breath died in her throat.

 

“Or about as all right as you’ll be soon enough,” he said, voice deceptively soft.

 

His fingers came tight around her jaw, pressing down to the bone, and Anna cried out even as he held her fast.

 

“Did you explore the manor house with the keys I left you, Anna?” he asked, the words soft and honeyed even as his fingers dug into her skin. “Find anything of interest to you?”

 

_Body slack and pale, dark hair tumbling over wizened shoulders, thick iron spikes driven through a caved-in chest and blood, so much blood, so very, very much…_

 

Anna’s heart beat rapid-quick in her chest, breath short and sharp, the sight of Christabel’s limp, dead form burned into her memory.

 

She couldn’t speak.

 

Hans smiled at her, fingers still digging tightly into the curve of her jaw. “I’m sure you enjoyed your little exploration,” he said, “but you’ve had your fun. I’ll need them back, I’m afraid. We wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble, now would we?”

 

His eyes scanned her face, searching, appraising, and Anna’s eyes widened as she remembered the last time she’d held the keys in her hand: as she’d opened the hidden door within Hans’s study, as she’d lifted her lantern and slowly made her way down the stairs, into the bloody hellscape beneath the house’s foundations.

 

_The keys_ , she thought, fear bubbling up like burning acid within her chest.

 

The keys were still on his desk beside Elsa’s letters.

 

_…help_ , Anna thought desperately, shoulders shaking violently as she slowly met Hans’s piercing stare. _Kristoff… Elsa…_

 

**_Help._ **

 

—-

 

The snow still fell in thick, twisting bands around her as Elsa pulled her traveling cloak tightly around her shoulders, the dark navy wool half-draped along her nose and mouth against the cold as she made her way towards the inn.

 

_See sense, dear,_ Gerda’s soft but insistent voice echoed through her memory, and Elsa sighed.

 

Gerda was right, she knew. If Anna truly was in danger, Elsa would be precious little help to her so exhausted and travel-worn.

 

She’d regroup, then. Get some hot food, a warm bed, a good night’s sleep, bear off the chill of the snow and ice lashing hard into the cold mountain night.

 

And Anna…

 

…Anna would be safe.

 

If only because Elsa couldn’t abide the thought of anything else.

 

There was a sharp clopping of hooves along the road, and Elsa huddled into her cloak, eyes widening in recognition at the sight of the dull grey mare and the warmly-jacketed man astride her, even as they slowed and settled beside a split-oak hitching post outside the inn.

 

A comely young woman, all fleshy curves in a too-thin dress and a bright, flirtatious smile appeared in the doorway to the inn as the rider slid from the saddle, haphazardly securing the reins to the hitching post. “Took you long enough, then, didn’t it?” she called, leaning against the doorway, staring out to him with dark, sultry eyes.

 

“Give it a rest, Marina!” the rider called back with a huff, testing the reins. “Had a bit of trouble with a delivery from the estate. ‘Give it _only_ to this name,’ he said. Had to get past an old bag of bones to get it to her, but the job’s done.” The rider crooked a grin as he quickly stepped up onto the sagging porch of the inn, slinging an arm over the girl’s shoulders. “Well, my job with _her_ , anyway.”

 

Their laughter twined into the night as the door closed with a firm slam behind them, and Elsa folded her lower lip in against her teeth as she stared to the horse scratching unhappily at the road beneath its hooves, snow dusting along its coat.

 

_You know the way to the estate, don’t you, girl,_ Elsa thought, glancing to the door to the inn as she took careful steps towards the horse. It eyed her warily, ears swiveling to and fro, but allowed her to place one cool hand along its neck. _You’ve been there before, haven’t you? You probably even know who sent the letter. The one who cares about Anna, too._

 

_And what are you prepared to do? Charge up the mountain on horseback?_

 

Gerda’s voice seemed to echo through her, around her, stern and disapproving. Elsa’s features were tightly-drawn and clouded as she stroked gentle fingers along the horse’s broad neck, the barest hint of a smile tilting at the corners of her lips as it nickered softly.

 

_See sense, dear._

 

Anna’s soft, desperate voice on the other side of a closed door.

 

_See sense._

 

Anna drawing close to her new husband, oblivious to the way his hands tightened possessively at the small of her back, the muted darkness of the black rose in his lapel as stark as the flash of blood-red rubies around Anna’s throat.

 

_See sense._

 

… _she needs you._

 

_See sense, Elsa._

 

**_She needs you_**.

 

Flashes of memory seemed to surround her as her hands moved seemingly of their own accord.

 

_Anna, calling for her…_

 

Her fingertips came fast around the tightly-tied reins, moving quick against the cold.

 

_Anna, whispering, pleading, crying…_

 

Boot to stirrup, shifting weight.

 

_Anna, eyes soft and sad, staring up at her from beside the carriage that would take her to her new life…_

 

Cold, worn leather in her hand, skirts haphazard and rucked up around her.

 

_Anna…_

 

**_She needs you_**.

 

Heels dug tightly into broad flanks, a sharp whinny as sturdy legs reared back, and the sudden thundering echo of hooves along a snow-swept mountain path.

 

In her youth, in the Before, Elsa had been an excellent rider, though she’d had little cause to take to the saddle in the many years since.

 

But Anna had never been in trouble.

 

Narrowing her eyes, wrapping her traveling cloak tightly around her shoulders, she clutched the reins and leaned hard into the saddle, spurring the horse on as fast as she could, driving high up into the mountains.

 

She didn’t look back.

 

—-

 

Sven lowered his head and pushed on, breath billowing out before him in thick frosted clouds, flecks of foam spattering along his lips.

 

Kristoff grit his teeth, eyes closed as he struggled to remain upright in the saddle, reins clutched white-knuckled in his hands, bow slung tight over his shoulder as Sven continued his hard gallop.

 

Biting back an oath, Kristoff pulled back hard on the reins, a deep, rattling cough shaking his broad chest as Sven slowed to a stop and glanced back to him with wide, frantic eyes.

 

“…sorry, buddy,” Kristoff coughed, closing his eyes on a grimace at the spray of blood that appeared along his hand. Pressing harder to the wound at his side, he moved his free hand to stroke gently over Sven’s neck. “Sven… listen to me. If… if I don’t make it back…”

 

Sven narrowed his eyes and offered up an indignant neigh, but Kristoff shushed him, stroking his mane. “It’s bad, buddy. It’s…” He gingerly moved his hand from over his wound, sucking in a sharp breath between his teeth at the spread of blood over his fingers. “…it’s real bad. So if I don’t make it back…”

 

He closed his eyes at the tumbling flashes of memory, of a loving gaze in gentle blue eyes, of a mischievous tilt of lips, of strong, soft hands, of beauty and love and warmth…

 

“…keep her safe, Sven,” Kristoff said, and there was a waver, an unsteadiness to his voice that he almost didn’t recognize. “You have to get to her and keep her safe. Always.”

 

_Always._

 

Sven glanced back to him before snuffling in irritation, lowering his head and starting into a canter before a hard pull on the reins brought him to a stop again.

 

Kristoff was breathing hard, head bowed, features pale and drawn, and Sven whinnied and tried to pull forward.

 

“…just a minute, Sven,” he said, voice strangely distant. “…just… just give me a minute.”

 

The wind twisted into a slow, steady howl around them, snow falling heavier still as Sven paced uneasily along the path.

 

_Anna_ , Kristoff thought, clutching hard at his side, eyes clenched shut at the slow, steady throb of pain beneath his fingertips.

 

_Anna._

 

_—-_

 

“Well, Anna?”

 

Hans’s voice was cold and dark, fingers still bruising-tight around her jaw as Anna stared at him with wide eyes, her breath shallow even as it seemed to die in her throat.

 

“…I…” she managed, the word trembling along her lips, “…I… lost the keys. Somewhere.”

 

Hans stared at her for a moment before closing his eyes, exhaling on a soft sigh.

 

“’Somewhere,’” he repeated. “’Somewhere’.”

 

His eyes opened, burning dark into hers, a malevolent flash, and Anna couldn’t contain her sharp gasp as he brought his arm around her waist, tight enough to steal the breath from her lungs.

 

“Oh, Anna,” he said, all sweetness and softness gone as his eyes bored into her and his words dripped with venom, “I know you’re painfully stupid at the best of times, but even you can do better than that.”

 

His fingertips drove into the bruises at her side, and Anna cried out and tried to pull away even as he held her fast.

 

“You’ve thought yourself so smart, haven’t you,” Hans said darkly, turning Anna in his arms, and she started at the sight of her reflections around the bed, all fear-widened eyes and visibly-shaking shoulders. Hans lowered his head, placed his lips close to her ear, and Anna shuddered. “Thought that I didn’t have any idea what you were doing. What you’ve done.”

 

The hand at her jaw stroked lovingly down to her throat, just barely curving around it. “I’d had such high hopes for you, Anna,” Hans murmured, glancing to her frightened eyes in the mirror. “You’d seemed so promising at first. Willing. Eager. And so very, very desperate. Just like my dear, sweet Christabel was once.”

 

He smiled, dark and venomous, fingers tightening along her throat. “I’m so happy that you’ve finally had the chance to meet her,” he said, voice softly amused. “So tell me, Anna… what did you think of her?”

 

Anna was deathly pale, trembling violently as she stared to Hans’s eyes in the mirror.

 

“…what _are_ you?” she asked, voice a hushed, horrified whisper.

 

She cried out as his hand tightened around her throat, just for a heartbeat, just long enough to frighten, to assert control.

 

“What I am, Anna,” Hans said darkly, eyes narrowed, “is so much more than you could ever be. Perhaps things might have been different if you’d realized that sooner. But alas, here we are.”

 

He pressed a mockingly-gentle kiss to her cheek, lips curving into a small smile as Anna shuddered and flinched away. “Of course, you prefer to be touched by a different hand now, don’t you,” he murmured. “My sweet, darling wife apparently has a taste for being fucked by the help, doesn’t she? Did you enjoy it, Anna? Did you love being spread open like a _lady_ instead of the worthless whore we both know you are?”

 

“…stop,” Anna managed, the word weak and tremulous as she closed her eyes.

 

_I thought you were my true love… dear god, once I thought you were my true love…_

 

She opened pained eyes and attempted to turn her head to the windows, to the mountains, to Kristoff’s absent form, only for Hans to pull her back to him, all bruising-tight hands and mocking lips.

 

“Did he love you, Anna?” he asked, voice low at her ear. “Did he make you feel beautiful, make you feel _special_? That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? For someone to _love_ you?”

 

His lips curved into a smile. “Such a shame that you had such a short time together. But you’ll be together again soon enough.”

 

The implication behind his words settled over Anna, leaden and cold, and she pulled roughly away from Hans, breathing hard, one hand clutching at her chest.

 

“…what did you do to him?” she asked, voice breathless even as she glanced again to the windows, eyes widening, blood running cold.

 

No… it couldn’t… he couldn’t…

 

Hans was utterly calm, even as his eyes darkened.

 

“Gave him a far kinder end than he deserved,” he said after a moment. “And a kinder one still than I’ll give you, my dear Anna.”

 

Anna’s heart clenched painfully in her chest as she stared to the windows, to the lashing snow beyond the pane.

 

_Kristoff,_ she thought desperately, something in her breaking apart, a sob rising to her throat. **_Kristoff._**

 

—-

 

_Anna._

 

Kristoff opened his eyes slowly on a low, protracted exhale, gritting his teeth as he pressed his hand more tightly to his wound.

 

Sven was still uneasy beneath him, still glancing frantically down the path, and Kristoff set his hand to the horse’s broad neck in a calming gesture before taking up the reins.

 

Sven looked back to him with hopeful eyes, and Kristoff took a deep breath, staring ahead. 

 

_Anna’s arms warm around him, a brush of lips over his forehead. Comforting. Anchoring. Loving._

 

**_I love you. No matter what happens… I love you._ **

 

He was breathing hard, eyes closed, Anna’s gentle smile slowly fading into the memory of Christabel’s face, all haunted eyes and too-pale skin, Hans’s hands tight along her back, his eyes passing over her, dark and measuring.

 

Staring into the swirling snow along the path, blood dripping slow and hot onto the saddle, Kristoff knew, somehow, that he had failed her.

 

He wouldn’t fail again.

 

Gritting his teeth, he tapped his heels to Sven’s flanks. The horse glanced back to him, barely needing the encouragement to break again into a hard gallop, lowering his head and pushing hard into the path.

 

Kristoff was breathing hard, jaw set tight as he leaned forward, pain and exhaustion forgotten, everything in him narrowed to one single purpose.

 

He would keep Anna safe.

 

Nothing else mattered.

 

Nothing.

 

—-

 

Anna was trembling as she looked back to Hans, back to his easy posture, the utter lack of concern within his eyes.

 

“…you won’t do anything to me,” she said in a hushed voice, forcing her arms to remain tight to her sides even as she burned with the desire to wrap them protectively around herself. “You have dozens of servants on staff. You won’t kill me with witnesses everywhere.”

 

A slow, predatory smile spread across Hans’s face then, and Anna felt her heart turn to ice within her chest. “’Witnesses,’” Hans repeated lightly. “Such a smart little girl, aren’t you, Anna. Or hadn’t you noticed that the house has seemed rather empty today?”

 

He took a step towards her, eyes burning into hers. “No, I suppose you didn’t. Too busy rutting with that disgusting animal, weren’t you?”

 

“Don’t you dare talk about him like that,” Anna seethed, narrowing her eyes and taking a step towards Hans. “Don’t you _dare._ ”

 

Hans smirked derisively at her. “While you and that _creature_ ,” he intoned, quirking an amused eyebrow, “were carrying on this morning, I dismissed all of the staff for the next few days.” He reached forward and caught Anna’s chin in his hand, stroking his thumb over the bone. “So I can have some personal time with my dear, blushing bride, you understand.”

 

His fingers tightened, and he yanked hard, throwing Anna down to the bed, narrowing his eyes at her.

 

“All I asked was that you be loyal to me, Anna,” Hans said darkly. “Be loyal and submissive, and you would have anything you wanted.”

 

“Except love,” Anna spat, pushing up onto her hands on the bed and glaring at him. “Except to be cared about, to be treated like a _person_.”

 

Hans eyed her carefully as he took a step forward, and Anna raised up onto her knees, eyes flashing fire as she stood firm.

 

“I won’t let you near me ever again,” she said, voice trembling with rage. “I won’t let you touch me. Kill me if you want, but _I won’t let you touch me_.”

 

Her eyes widened as Hans laughed then, short and sharp, casting derisive eyes over her body, the bloodied fabric of her nightgown.

 

“As if you deserve it,” he said in a dark voice. “As if you ever did.”

 

His eyes flashed with malice as he stalked over to the writing desk, roughly opening the top drawer and extracting the now-familiar ruby choker.

 

“No, Anna,” he said, turning the necklace over in his hand, “I don’t think I’ll have you in my bed. I think I’ll have you on your knees in the courtyard, your pretty neck against the millstone.”

 

The rubies flashed blood-dark in the light, reflecting around him as Hans smiled. “And I think I’ll keep your faithless head in the basement afterward. To keep Christabel company, you understand. My poor love’s been alone for so very long. But you…” His smile faded. “…you two so dearly deserve each other.”

 

Anna gasped as he suddenly threw the necklace at her with a heavy hand, and the stones caught her hard across the right side of her face, slicing into her temple. Her breath was short, fingers trembling as she reached up and felt the short gash curving along her brow, a slow drip of blood sluicing down along her ear.

 

“Wear it,” Hans said, the words a harsh, barked command even as he moved to the wardrobe at the far side of the room, pulling it open, rummaging through its contents and retrieving Anna’s wedding dress. His eyes were dark as he roughly threw it against her. “And this, I think. A fitting wardrobe for your last moments, wife.”

 

Anna pressed her hand to her bleeding brow, eyes unfocused as she watched Hans stride purposefully over to the bedchamber doors.

 

“Dress,” he called over his shoulder, barely glancing at her. “I’ve a sword to retrieve and sharpen, but I’ll be back to fetch you soon enough.”

 

He was through the door before Anna could even react, closing it behind him with a firm slam, the familiar _clunk_ of the lock sliding into place echoing ominously throughout the room.

 

Anna remained utterly still on the bed for a long moment, her wedding dress draped haphazardly over her lap, blood dripping along her temple, eyes blank, heart cold.

 

She set her gaze numbly to the window, fisting her hands in the soft silk of the dress.

 

_Kristoff,_ she thought, and her heart seemed raw and open in her chest as she closed her eyes, dropped her head to her knees and wept.

 

_I’m sorry,_ she thought to his absent form, half-hysterical as she sobbed. _I’m so sorry, Kristoff. I’m so sorry…_

 

Anna thought to his smile, his warmth, his strength as she’d curled around him, and she cried harder.

 

He’d won.

 

Hans had won.

 

Anna hadn’t even known she’d been playing his game until he’d smiled at her, dark and venomous, and moved his final piece into place.

 

Kristoff was dead.

 

Elsa’s letters lay unanswered, unnoticed until far too late.

 

No one would ever know what had happened to her.

 

No one would…

 

Would…

 

Anna’s eyes were utterly lifeless, her movements mechanical as she slipped the bloodied nightdress from her shoulders, features expressionless as she lifted the heavy wedding dress over her head.

 

Once, she had worn it when her life lay before her, beautiful and rich with promise, with hope, with love.

 

She wore it now as a shroud.

 

_I’m sorry,_ Anna thought again, moving on unsteady legs to the window, her wedding dress tangled around her legs and trailing behind her.

 

_I’m sorry._

 

To whom or for what, she wasn’t even sure anymore.

 

It wouldn’t matter for much longer.

 

—-

 

Elsa glanced warily at the tall, spidery limbs of the trees around her, gently stroking her horse’s neck even as she bit her lip and glanced down the path, squinting into the snow.

 

_…I think that’s north_ , she thought uneasily. _And the Westergard estate… is north. I think. Or… I think I heard it is, once…_

 

Elsa sighed in frustration, running her hand over her face.

 

It had been a hard ride, but she’d spurred the horse on, rising up in the saddle as they leaned into the mountain and pushed on at a brutal pace. They’d slowed once they hit the forest, all tall, sturdy pines and spruces, and one, two, three turns had left Elsa glancing up helplessly to the strong boughs and wishing desperately for a signpost.

 

_See sense, dear_ , Gerda’s voice seemed to echo around her again, and Elsa shook her head as she nickered gently to the horse beneath her.

 

She’d never been so _in_ sensible in her life. Rushing from home, stealing a horse, riding up into the mountain at night, in a snowstorm, yet…

 

A low howl rose up in the distance, and the horse started even as Elsa attempted to settle her.

 

And now, she thought grimly, likely frozen to death or eaten by wolves in the forest.

 

She glanced down the path, biting her lip as the horse uneasily began to walk once more.

 

_See sense, dear_.

 

Elsa suppressed a sigh and reached into her cloak to extract the letter, glancing down at its crumpled surface and closing her eyes.

 

She imagined riding hard into the night, finding the estate, demanding to see her sister… only to find Anna perfectly safe – happy, even – eyes narrowed as she looked to her sister, her long-absent sister… and threw her letters in her face.

 

Elsa lowered her head, fingers tightening around the reins.

 

She could still turn back.

 

She could… she could…

 

There was a thundering of hooves, and Elsa turned, wide-eyed, back to the path behind her. There was a small fork in the road, barely noticeable, the briefest break in the dense foliage, and a rider came crashing through it, his horse dark-eyed and frantic, glancing back to its rider before pushing on, towards them.

 

Elsa’s horse started as the rider approached, and she quickly marshaled the reins and attempted to settle her. “Easy now, girl,” she murmured, “easy.”

 

She glanced to the rider, a slow bubble of fear rising up in her chest as she noticed his sturdy, broad-shouldered form – fear that intensified into a sharp gasp as she noticed the thick trail of blood behind him.

 

The man stared at her for a long moment before moving his horse closer, and Elsa remained utterly frozen in place, too frightened to even run.  

 

“…are you Elsa?” he asked suddenly, voice rough with exhaustion, and Elsa’s eyes widened.

 

“I…” she started, clutching tightly at the reins and glancing back down the path, tensing her calves in preparation to spur her horse on. “I…”

 

“…did you get the letter?”

 

Elsa’s eyes widened even further as she slowly looked to the man.

 

He was breathing hard, brown eyes staring at her beseechingly, one hand pressed tightly to his side.

 

Elsa slowly, wordlessly extended her hand, showing him the crumpled letter within it.

 

The man heaved a sigh of open relief. “Thank god,” he said, words breaking on a sharp, rattling cough as he stared past her down the path. “We need to go. _Now._ ”

 

“…hold on a moment,” Elsa said, glancing warily at the man. “What do you want with me? How do you know who I am? And how…”

 

“It’s Anna,” the man said roughly, eyes wild and frantic as he looked to her. “It’s _Anna._ ”

 

Elsa’s breath caught in her throat at the utter desperation on his face, and her hand curled tightly around the letter.

 

“Show me the way,” she whispered.

 

—-

 

Anna pressed her hand to the cold windowglass, eyes blank and empty as she stared into the night, to the snowclouds curling dark around the full winter moon.

 

Her wedding dress was heavy along her shoulders, so much heavier than she remembered.

 

She remembered so very many things about that day.

 

Elsa, twining flowers into her hair.

 

Elsa, carefully securing the buttons along the back of her dress.

 

Elsa, all disapproving eyes and judging glances as she looked to Hans at the altar.

 

_…you were right, Elsa,_ Anna thought numbly. _You were right about him._

 

But she would never know how right she truly was.

 

She would never know… never know that Anna still loved her, that Anna had tried.

 

Anna closed her eyes, breathing slowly.

 

Soon enough, all that would be left of her would be an empty bed and a spread of blood dripping thick into freshly-fallen snow.

 

A broken heart, laid alongside Kristoff’s body in the woods.

 

Broken dreams, stitched tightly into the seams of her wedding dress as it covered her lifeless body.

 

Soon enough.

 

Soon enough.

 

_I’m sorry,_ Anna thought again, slowly opening her eyes and casting them out to the forest one last time. _I’m…_

 

Her thoughts trailed off at the sight of a frantic movement beyond the pane, and she squinted into the darkness, to the forest path.

 

There, in the distance, was a flash, a horse’s long-legged gait, and Anna’s heart stopped as she recognized its coat, eyes drawing up to the rider in the saddle…

 

He was rising up, leaning forward, eyes narrowed as he pushed hard into the driving snow, and Anna clasped her hands to her mouth, eyes welling with tears and heart stitching back together as she watched him ride hard and fast, back to the estate…

 

…back to her.

 

_Kristoff,_ she thought on a broken sob, delirious with hope and love. _Kristoff._

 

There was a flash not far behind him, white-gold and bright as it rushed forward, nearly overtaking him, a smaller figure in a billowing cloak.

 

**_Elsa_** _,_ Anna realized, eyes wide. _But… how…_

 

She glanced to the doors to the bedchamber, to the window, back and forth, back and forth.

 

Finally, she closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath.

 

_Kristoff is alive,_ she thought, shoulders trembling hard and fast. _And Elsa is here_.

 

Hans would be back any moment, sword in hand, to escort her to her death.

 

Anna’s eyes were hard and purposeful as she slowly opened them and gazed towards the door.

 

_Stronger than you think you are_ , she thought to herself, breathing hard, eyes narrowing in determination.

 

Death might yet take her, she knew.

 

But not without a fight.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last full chapter, guys. There will be an epilogue after this, so we’re not quite done, but enjoy the climax of the story. I dearly, dearly hope it meets your expectations.
> 
> (And major, major thanks to my amazing Tumblr family for the encouragement. This chapter would not have happened without them.)

The snow lashed hard around them like stinging nettles as they rode, Kristoff taking the point, Elsa riding hot at his heels, rising up in the saddle, breath ghosting cold into the night.

 

“How much further?” she yelled ahead to him, even as the wind seemed to steal the words from her lungs and freeze them in the air before her.

 

“Not too far,” Kristoff said, raising his voice to be heard, but there was a weakness to it, a weariness, and Elsa’s brow furrowed in concern as she came up alongside him.

 

“Do you need to rest?” she asked, wincing as she glanced to the bloody spread beneath the hand he held tightly to his side.

 

Kristoff’s jaw was set, eyes narrowed as he pushed Sven on. “It’s fine,” he said in a tight voice. “It has to be.”

 

“You’ll be of no use to my sister if you bleed to death before you even get to her!”

 

Kristoff was breathing hard as he looked to her then, and Elsa started at the wild, frantic look to his eyes as he met her gaze. “If I don’t get to her,” he said, voice thick, “then it doesn’t even matter anymore.”

 

Elsa stared at him, at the determined set to his features, and the memory of the postscript in the letter seemed to burn bright within her.

 

_…because I love her, too._

 

“…do you really think he’s that dangerous?” she asked, clicking her tongue and forcing her horse on a fraction faster even as she mentally apologized to the creature for the hard run.

 

Kristoff barely glanced to her, leaning harder into the saddle and staring down the path. “Who do you think did this to me?” he asked, voice dark, and Elsa’s breath caught in her throat.

 

“…come on, girl,” she murmured to the horse, eyes wide with fear as she rose up higher, breathing hard. “ _Faster_.”

 

—-

 

Anna’s world had narrowed to the slow, steady push-pull of her breath.

 

Inhale.

 

Exhale.

 

Inhale.

 

Exhale.

 

Her palms were pressed firmly to the cool silk of her skirts, purest white spattered with drops of blood.

 

Hers or Christabel’s… she wasn’t even sure anymore.

 

There was precious little left to distinguish them, in the end.

 

…precious little, Anna thought, slowly gazing to the locked bedchamber doors, swallowing hard even as a deep, iron resolve continued to solidify within her chest.

 

…but not nothing.

 

A slow, purposeful inhale, eyes closing, heart and shoulders steadying.

 

_Did you fight, Christabel?_ Anna thought, running her fingertips along her skirts, and the girl who had held them in her hands on her wedding day, eyes bright with hope and promise, seemed a distant stranger. _Did you try to fight him, too?_

 

Exhale, thin and unsteady, eyes still focused on the doors.

 

She’d made two full circuits of the room after she’d torn from the windows, her heart seeming to beat in time with the rapid cadence of Kristoff and Elsa’s flight towards her, eyes and hands searching for something, anything to arm herself for the fight.

 

Either anything that might be seen as makeshift weapons was too crass for the lord of the manor, or Hans had seen fit to eliminate that potential as well.

 

And so Anna had settled back to the bed, limbs threaded tight with tension, and forced herself to breathe.

 

She couldn’t overpower him.

 

He’d ensured that she couldn’t outsmart him.

 

Anna grimaced, jaw tight as his mocking smile flashed through her memory, and she ground her teeth together.

 

All she had left was the hope that she could outrun him when he came to retrieve her, push past him, rush to the forest, to Kristoff and Elsa, to safety, to home.

 

She knew the way, Anna thought, lips turning up into a weak half-smile as she remembered Kristoff’s solid warmth beside her, his anchoring strength, his gentle, teasing eyes.

 

Inhale, deep and shaky, one hand pressing tight to her mouth.

 

_He’s alive_ , Anna thought, holding the breath deep within her, eyes closed. _He’s alive._

 

Exhale, breath passing between her fingers, and she opened her eyes only to narrow them malevolently at the doors.

 

_But you tried to take him from me, didn’t you_ , she thought to Hans’s absent form, breath growing heavy, anger prickling along her arms, the back of her neck, red and sharp. _You tried to take everything._

 

Her innocence, broken and bloodied in his bed.

 

Her love, twisted, mocked, abused, discarded.

 

Her sister, hidden and kept from her, the distance between them increasing even as it should have narrowed.

 

…and her heart, used, degraded, and left to die alone on the mountainside.

 

Inhale, trembling and short, jaw set, hands clenching tight in her skirts.

 

Everything in her was screaming to fight, to hold fast and make her final stand, steel her backbone, her will, her resolve, and reclaim some semblance of the strength she’d lost, that he’d so desperately tried to break and shatter…

 

A slow exhale, shoulders falling, and Anna closed her eyes and set her head in her hands.

 

Her best chance for survival was still to run, she knew.

 

But it felt so weak, somehow, to set desperate feet to the path and run to help instead of fighting back.

 

_Sometimes being strong just means letting other people help you._

 

Kristoff’s voice, soft yet heavy with meaning, came to her then, and Anna raised her head, chest rising on a slow, steady inhale.

 

A brief, bloody flash appeared behind her eyes, and she closed them briefly, just for the space of a few heartbeats.

 

_Christabel,_ Anna thought, fists clenching, breath tight in her throat. _I’m sorry. I promise I’ll make it right somehow._

 

_But I won’t be joining you._

 

The sound of approaching footsteps reached her ears then, and Anna’s heartbeat quickened in her chest as she forced herself to rise, as she moved towards the doors on unsteady legs.

 

It was an easy, unhurried step, measured and steady, and Anna pressed her back to the wall beside the doors, breath rising short and sharp as the lock began to turn.

 

_Stronger than you think you are,_ she thought, the words burned bright into her memory, sustaining, and she briefly set her hand to her heart. _Stronger than you think you are._

 

Her heart skipped a beat as the doors opened then, as Hans appeared, all lithe, easy movement, his familiar smirk tilting at the corners of his lips.

 

His hand rested easily along the sword slung over his hip.

 

“Well, Anna,” he said, and there was a mocking sadness to his voice that set the familiar heat of rage to her blood, “as much as I’ve enjoyed our time together, I’m afraid that it’s come to…”

 

She moved.

 

Feet sliding quick over the marble, she moved, one arm lashing out, pushing him bodily up against the doorframe, and she didn’t even stop to register the brief narrowing of his eyes as she ran into the hallway, breaking into a hard sprint.

 

_Go,_ Anna thought to herself, breathing hard, pushing herself to move as quickly as she could even as her wedding dress seemed a leaden weight against her, as her skirts trailed along the rich carpet. _Go, just go!_

 

The sound of quick footsteps breaking into a run sounded behind her, and Anna’s eyes widened as she ran faster, ducking her head and _moving_ , down the hall, around the corner, heart soaring as she recognized the familiar stairs in the distance.

 

_Almost there,_ she thought, breath coming in quick bursts, heart pounding even as Hans’s footsteps grew quicker and closer behind her. _Almost…_

 

Anna’s eyes widened on a horrified gasp as her heavy skirts tangled around her ankles, and she stumbled hard, just for a moment, just long enough to throw her off balance and force her to hobble slightly to the side.

 

A grasping hand came tight around the back of her neck, pressing down, and Anna didn’t even have time to cry out before it threw her hard against the rough stone wall.

 

The hall echoed with a sickening crack, and Anna slumped to the floor, blinking hard, the world seeming to tilt and swim before her even as a deep, awful throbbing settled along the base of her skull. She closed her eyes, nearly retching from the pain, even as something lifted her, grabbed, and _pushed._

 

There was a hard impact at her side, followed by another along her ribs, her hip, point to point to point until she finally lay still, dizzy and breathless, every inch of her screaming in pain even as she tried to stand, to orient herself.

 

Anna blinked hard, glancing up at the long stone staircase now rising up above her, and she distantly registered that she’d been thrown down them even as she recognized Hans’s boots descending towards her.

 

_Go,_ her inner voice screamed again, but she closed her eyes and held back another wave of nausea as her head continued to throb.

 

Too late.

 

It was too late.

 

Another sharp, screaming pain at the base of her skull, and Anna’s gaze was pulled forcefully to meet Hans’s as he roughly dragged her to her feet by her hair.

 

His breath was steady and even as his eyes burned into hers, dark and murderous. “I suppose it was too much to ask that you might die with dignity, Anna,” he said in a low voice, the hand at her nape fisting tight and pulling harder. “But we’ll just have to make do.”

 

She dimly felt his free hand come tight around her forearm, dragging her with him, and Anna went slack, attempted to drag her feet, but everything around her was gray and unsteady, long flashes of black streaking across her vision, and she knew Hans’s rough pull was the only reason she was standing upright.

 

There was a sudden freezing rush, a pulse of driving snow and wind, and Anna blinked, blood turning to ice as she recognized the snowy stone of the courtyard.

 

She glanced desperately to the dark fringe of forest beyond the estate, something breaking within her as Hans dragged her to the center of the courtyard, to a large, upturned stone, and roughly forced her to her knees.

 

They wouldn’t make it, she knew.

 

They wouldn’t make it in time.

 

Anna bit back the sob rising hot and desperate to her throat even as Hans’s hand curved around the back of her neck, pushing her head down against the stone. His touch was mockingly gentle as he pushed her hair aside, baring her pale neck to the cold winter air.

 

Anna’s breath was heavy and short as she struggled, tried to push herself up, but her head and body ached… and she was suddenly tired, so very tired…

 

There was a metallic scrape behind her, the slow drag of a sword being pulled from its scabbard, and Anna closed her eyes tightly, taking a deep breath and willing the dampness pushing at her eyes to hold back.

 

She wouldn’t let him see her cry.

 

Not even in death.

 

_I’m sorry, Kristoff,_ Anna thought, and her heart seemed to break in her chest. _Tell Elsa I love her. That… that I tried._

 

The world seemed to slow around her, narrowing once again to her breath, to the kiss of snowflakes along her cheeks, to the twisting bite of the wind around her.

 

She hoped, distantly, that Kristoff and Elsa would at least arrive late enough to not have to watch her die.

 

There was a hysterical sob rising up in her chest, and Anna bit hard against her lip.

 

If only she had fought harder…

 

If only she had been stronger…

 

Anna breathed in one last time, willing her heartbeat to settle even as her head pounded, louder and louder, driving hard and fast and sharp like a thousand thundering hoofbeats…

 

There was a sudden clatter a few paces away, the harsh sound of metal on stone just behind her, and Anna opened her eyes slowly in confusion, taking in a deep, shaking breath as she turned her head.

 

Her eyes widened as she drew her gaze up, to Hans’s stunned form held aloft in Kristoff’s iron-fisted grip, all bared teeth and narrowed eyes, blood dripping fast along his side.

 

“…Kristoff?” she gasped, struggling to her feet, but Kristoff glanced past her, down the courtyard.

 

“Elsa, get her out of here!” he yelled, voice fading into a sharp cry of pain as Hans pulled away far enough to drive one pointed fist hard and fast into his side.

 

Anna’s vision was still hazy and unsteady, watching in horror as Hans moved to retrieve his sword, only for Kristoff to haul back and deliver a hard punch to his jaw before knocking him over. The two struggled, Hans’s sword just barely out of reach, and Anna gasped as she noticed the trail of blood behind Kristoff.

 

“Anna!”

 

A pair of arms came tight around her shoulders, holding her close even as they shook, and Anna pulled back, eyes widening as Elsa looked to her, hair wild and disheveled around her shoulders, riding cloak askew. “Are you hurt?” she asked desperately, running her hands over Anna’s face. “Anna, did he hurt you?”

 

Anna still stared at her, head and heart pounding even as Elsa helped her to her feet, one arm still wrapped tightly around her shoulders. “I…” Anna managed, blinking hard as she attempted to focus her gaze. “…I’m alive. I… I think.”

 

Elsa attempted to pull her back towards the edge of the courtyard, and Anna dimly registered Sven and another horse waiting beyond the curving stone wall.

 

“We have to get out of here,” Elsa said in a rush, pulling hard against Anna’s shoulders. “Anna, we have to go, now!”

 

There was the sound of a hard impact, and Anna turned back, eyes widening in horror as Hans gained the upper hand, Kristoff prostrate on the ground beneath him as Hans drove a swift, hard kick against his ribs.

 

Anna cried out, pulling away from Elsa even as her sister held her firm.

 

“Anna!”

 

“I’m not leaving him!” Anna said breathlessly, struggling hard even as her vision faded and her breath grew short. “I promised! I promised him!”

 

Anna stared desperately ahead as Kristoff pushed up, breathing hard and driving his elbow up against Hans’s chin, knocking him back even as Hans attempted once more to retrieve his sword.

 

He was so pale, so haggard-looking, and Anna’s breath caught in her throat as she noticed the thick spread of blood along his shirt.

 

He fell to his knees, head bowed, exhaustion clear in every line of his body, and a silent scream rose up in Anna’s chest as Hans’s fingers came tight around the hilt of his sword.

 

_I can’t watch you die,_ she thought hysterically, and her scream broke over her lips even as she once more attempted to pull from Elsa’s hold. _I can’t… I can’t!_

 

Elsa glanced to her then, shoulders shaking, before releasing Anna from her grasp.

 

Anna barely had time to glance to her sister in confusion before Elsa moved, quickly spanning the space across the courtyard and throwing her full weight hard against Hans, landing against him in an awkward heap. Her hands shook visibly as she pushed the sword away, but Hans recovered quickly, catching her wrist in his hand and twisting her arm up hard behind her back before throwing her roughly to the ground.

 

“You’re all so eager to die, aren’t you,” Hans said, breathing heavily as he retrieved his sword, glancing from Elsa to Kristoff, who lay utterly still and silent in the snow. Hans’s lips twisted into a sneer as Elsa moved to kneel protectively by Kristoff, hands shaking as she turned his face upright, searching for a pulse.

 

“Shame,” Hans murmured, casting an appreciative eye over Elsa’s form. “If only you’d been more accessible than your worthless sister, I’dve had a far more beautiful trophy for my bed.”

 

He shrugged lightly, eyes flashing dark as he set the point of his sword to the rough flagstones of the courtyard. “But if I had to guess, I think you’ll bleed just as beautifully as my dear Anna always did.”

 

The blade of his sword glinted in the moonlight as he began to raise it high.

 

Anna struggled to her feet, breath coming in short, desperate pants as she looked with wide, horrified eyes to the scene before her.

 

Everything seemed almost frozen in place – Kristoff’s inert form, bleeding thickly into the snow, Elsa’s terrified features as she crouched protectively before him… the gleeful malice in Hans’s eyes as he lifted his sword.

 

_…he’s going to kill them,_ she thought desperately, and it felt as though her breath had stopped entirely. _He’s going to kill them because I loved them._

 

_Because they loved me._

 

_Stronger than you think you are,_ Anna thought on a broken, angry sob, and she turned her head, head pounding, the first of a line of hot tears sliding down her cheeks. _Stronger than…_

 

Her breath hitched high in her throat as her gaze fell on a pair of unassuming objects, dusted thickly with snow, haphazardly tossed aside just moments before.

 

_You wanted to shoot an arrow, remember?_ Kristoff’s eyes, soft and teasing, the quirk of a smile as he lifted, drew, aimed…

 

Anna’s knees shook but didn’t buckle as she moved, as quickly as she could, taking up the bow in winter-numb hands, grabbing an arrow from the fallen quiver beside it, and setting it to the nock.

 

Her breath billowed out in great frozen clouds before her as she lifted it, fingers shaking as she set them to the bowstring and _pulled…_

 

…nothing.

 

It didn’t budge.

 

_No,_ Anna thought, desperate, hysterical, fingers tugging hard at the bowstring, a broken cry rising to her lips. _Please… please!_

 

_…stronger than you think you are._

 

Kristoff’s voice, warm and anchoring.

 

His hands, strong but gentle around hers.

 

_…strongest person I’ve ever met…_

 

…inhale.

 

… _stronger than you think you are…_

 

Exhale.

 

_…stronger than you think you are…_

 

The slicing arc of a flashing blade.

 

Her sister, strong but frightened, refusing to look away.

 

Her beloved’s blood thick and red against freshly-fallen snow.

 

Inhale.

 

_Always._

 

Exhale.

 

_Always._

 

The faintest brush of her fingers along her cheek as pulled with everything she had, everything she was, as her eyes narrowed into the snow, between the flakes, through the wind.

 

She could feel the memory of Kristoff’s arms around her, holding her hands to the bow, and she grit her teeth as she finally, muscles burning, screaming in pain, drew it back.

 

_Stronger than you think you are._

 

Her vision was tilting wildly around her, fading into darkness, head pounding…

 

_What I am, Anna… is so much more than you could ever be._

 

Anna tightened her grip, drawing in a deep breath and forcing herself to stand steady, fingers tight and strong along the bowstring.

 

_No, Hans,_ she thought, mouth set tight, eyes open and clear.

 

_You’re so much less._

 

She loosed the arrow.

 

There was a sucking impact, a dull thud, and Anna’s hands didn’t move even as she stared ahead, to Hans’s bowed back, to the sword that fell limply from his hand, to the hunting arrow protruding bloody and thick from his chest.

 

He half-turned to her, eyes wide in disbelief as he coughed, hard and deep, flecks of blood along his lips.

 

Anna’s hand was tight along the bow, eyes staring into his even as she noted, distantly, that she had never before seen genuine emotion within him until now.

 

Another cough, deep and awful, and his eyes rolled back as he crumpled to the ground in an awkward heap. He twitched once, twice… and was still.

 

Anna was breathing hard, arms and hands trembling violently as she uncurled her fingers and dropped Kristoff’s bow to the ground, turning to regard Elsa as her sister rose unsteadily to her feet, staring at Anna with wide eyes.

 

A sob broke from her throat, echoing through the courtyard before she even had a chance to bite it back, and Anna looked to Elsa, tears sliding down her cheeks.

 

“…I got your letters,” she managed in a weak voice. “I finally… I finally got your letters…”

 

Anna dropped her face into her hands as Elsa rushed to her, her own shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs as she gathered Anna up in a fierce, enveloping hug, rocking her gently.

 

“I love you, Anna,” she heard Elsa say in a teary voice, and she clung and wept harder.

 

“How did you even get here?” Anna asked, pulling back a fraction and scrubbing a hand over her face.

 

Elsa managed a watery smile, glancing behind her. “Your friend got a message to me that…” She paled suddenly as her eyes passed over Kristoff. “Oh god,” she said, voice weak and frightened. “Anna… your friend…”

 

Anna’s blood ran cold as she turned, a horrified gasp rising in her throat as she pulled from Elsa’s embrace, rushing to Kristoff’s side on unsteady legs.

 

“Kristoff!” she cried, gently framing his face with her hands as she pulled him to her in the snow.

 

His eyes were closed, face deathly pale, and Anna gasped again at the drip of blood along her hand as she laid him in her lap.

 

_No,_ Anna thought, desperately curving her hand over his cheek. _Please, god, no!_

 

“Kristoff!” she yelled again, running one hand over his chest, over his heart. “Don’t you _dare_ die on me! Not now, not after everything!”

 

She was sobbing openly, shoulders heaving, hand limply clutching at his shirtfront. “Don’t… don’t you leave me,” she managed, voice rough with tears and hitching sobs. “You son of a _bitch_ , don’t you dare leave me!”

 

Anna shut her eyes tightly as she wept with great, chest-heaving sobs, dripping tears onto her hands as she clutched them to her mouth.

 

Her eyes flew open at the feel of a gentle brush along her cheek, just along her cheekbone, brushing aside her tears, and her eyes widened as Kristoff’s opened beneath her, the faintest hint of a smile tilting at the corners of his mouth.

 

“Language,” he whispered, curving his hand around her cheek.

 

Anna made a noise somewhere between a sob and a desperate cry as she threw her arms around him, and Kristoff struggled into an upright position, holding Anna close, burying his face in her hair, pressing gentle kisses to her cheek, her temple.

 

Anna clung to him, fisting her hands in the back of his shirt, pressing close to him even as she glanced to Elsa over his shoulder.

 

Her sister offered her a soft, understanding smile, and Anna couldn’t help but return it.

 

_Stronger than you think you are_ , she thought, closing her eyes against the warmth of Kristoff’s embrace.

 

For the first time in forever…

 

…she was pretty sure she knew.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, guys. The very last installment. 
> 
> I can’t tell you what an amazing experience this has been. I was so sure I’d never be able to pull this off. That it was beyond what I could do, that it was too strange to make believable, that no one would want to read something so dark and painful.
> 
> I don’t know if I’ve proven myself wrong. But I think I just might have.
> 
> I don’t have the words to thank all of you for coming along on this journey with me. For reviewing, for enjoying it, even when it hurt, for drawing such beautiful things to accompany it, for supporting me… I thank you, from the bottom of my heart. This is yours as much as it’s mine.

_…and they all lived happily ever after._

 

The wind was cold as it twined through Anna’s hair, the first turning days of spring still not bearing off the lingering chill of winter, and she smiled wanly as she stared out to the valley winding out before her in the morning sun.

 

Happily ever after had always seemed a casual afterthought in the fairytales of her youth, little more than a logical, uncontested solution, flowing easy and uninterrupted from the last moment of triumph, the dragon defeated, true love rising high over hardship and struggle.

 

She wasn’t sure she’d ever read a tale where happily ever after shied off to the distance, bleeding thick and wounded into freshly-fallen snow, where a fair maiden had clung close to her true love as he paled and stilled in her arms.

 

But then… those weren’t the fairytales worth having. The ones she’d bled through, fought through, lived through.

 

Real fairytales were true love waking, staring into her eyes even as his grew dark with the last embers of determination, holding her hand as his noble steed bore him up onto his back.

 

Real fairytales were his head against her chest, his solid form awkwardly held in the circle of her arms as they rode down the mountainside.

 

Real fairytales were the promise of strength, of love, of his hand tightly in hers, not letting go.

 

Anna’s head had still pounded, her body still aching as Sven bore them down towards the valley, thick beads of sweat breaking along his neck even in the cold mountain air. Elsa’s shoulders were trembling as she rode beside them, looking from the path to Anna at every other heartbeat, and even through the snow, through the darkness, Anna could see the exhaustion and fear tight along her sister’s shoulders.

 

She wasn’t sure which of them had collapsed first when they finally reached the hospital.

 

Anna closed her eyes, breathing slowly, curving one hand around the base of her skull. The thick knot had subsided after only a few days, but the doctors had insisted she stay for observation for days afterwards, just to be sure.

 

(They’d tried to hold Elsa as well after one look at her haggard appearance, but Elsa’s breath had gone short and sharp, eyes wide, cheeks chalk-pale as she’d stared around the hospital. Anna’s heart had broken and mended all at once as Elsa had let her draw her into her arms, stroke her hair, and wordlessly comfort her after so many years of wishing she could.)

 

But it was Kristoff they’d rushed to a bed, all hushed voices and worried glances. Anna had tried to push through them, to his bedside, but they’d barred the door, gathered her up and slipped a syringe into her arm that left her floating and weightless, the darkness pushing at the corners of her vision finally overtaking her.

 

In happily ever after, no one was ever worse for wear from the battles they’d fought.

 

But this was a real fairytale.

 

A real fairytale in which Anna woke screaming, mind and memory swimming with images of bloodied blades, of bruising hands reaching for her beneath cruel eyes and a mocking smile.

 

She’d started, breath freezing in her throat as a large hand stroked gently over her brow, and she’d blinked into the darkness of the cold, sterile room just in time to see Kristoff gather her to his chest, one arm wrapped warmly around her shoulders, her head tucked beneath his chin.

 

“Aren’t you hurt?” she’d whispered, even as she nuzzled in close to him.

 

“I don’t care,” he’d said, and she closed her eyes and counted his heartbeats with hers.

 

They’d settled into a routine then – each night she dreamed, dark and uneasy, and each night Kristoff came to her bedside, drew her into his arms and held her until she drifted off to sleep.

 

One night the nurses had come into her room, all purposeful eyes and disapproving mouths.

 

But at one sharp, meaningful look from Kristoff, they hadn’t drawn them apart.

 

Anna wasn’t sure if anything could.

 

Not anymore.

 

There was a soft footfall behind her, a pair of hands curving warmly over her hips, and Anna smiled as she leaned back against his the broad expanse of his chest.

 

“Took you long enough,” she said, resting her head against his shoulder as his arms came around her waist.

 

“Funny thing about getting stabbed,” Kristoff said, and Anna could hear the note of faint amusement in his voice. “Tends to make mountain climbing just a little slower for awhile afterwards. Who’dve thought that almost dying could take so much out of a guy?”

 

Anna was quiet as she folded her hands over his, gently stroking the backs with her thumbs. “But you didn’t die,” she said, very softly.

 

Kristoff pressed a firm, lingering kiss to her temple. “Promised you I wouldn’t, didn’t I,” he murmured against her skin.

 

Together, they looked out to the valley, to familiar trees, the slowly-thawing curve of the river in the distance.

 

“Remember when you took me up here for the first time?” Anna asked quietly.

 

Kristoff kissed her again, and she felt the curve of his smile against her temple. “Nope,” he said. “Not at all.”

 

Anna grinned and lightly pinched the back of his hand. “Liar.”

 

Kristoff laughed, the noise turning into a short, sharp cough, and Anna pressed closer to him, eyes widened and brow furrowed in concern. “…it’s all right,” he said, wincing as he coughed again. “It’ll… it’ll just take time.”

 

Anna was quiet as she drew his arms more tightly around her, bit her lip against a frown and stared ahead.

 

“…have you been to the estate?” she asked, very quietly, eyes distant.

 

She felt Kristoff nod, and she closed her eyes on a slow exhale.

 

“…it’s warm enough for the work to start,” he said after a moment. “Just barely.”

 

Anna nodded, a strangely empty coldness settling into her chest as the memories washed over her.

 

It had been Elsa who had unwittingly set it all in motion, when a red-faced man had appeared at the hospital, policemen in tow, gesturing wildly and raging about a stolen horse.

 

Anna had stared at her sister with wide, disbelieving eyes as Elsa paled and averted her gaze. “…you _stole a horse_?” she’d asked.

 

Elsa had shrugged helplessly, the barest hint of a smile tilting at her lips, and Anna nearly cried to see it. “Well,” Elsa said delicately, “it _was_ an emergency.”

 

But then one of the policemen had uttered the name _Lord Westergard_ , and everything around Anna seemed to fade, darken, her knees going weak even as Elsa’s arm came tight and supporting around her shoulders.

 

They’d been grim and skeptical as Elsa took her to a nearby chair, as Anna wrapped her arms tightly around herself, voice numb and distant even to her own ears as she told them about the locked room, about Hans… about Christabel.

 

They’d left without a word, glancing skeptically to the sisters, then to each other.

 

When they returned, hours later, their faces were pale, eyes dark and haunted.

 

Elsa had held her close as they rode together in the coach provided for them, and Anna trembled violently as they passed through the arch that signaled the boundary of the Westergard estate.

 

When they reached the house, they found the policemen standing awkwardly by a middle-aged woman, her hair grayed, lines etched deeply into her face as she clutched her hands to her mouth and wept over the shrouded figure lying wrapped and still on the ground before her, dark curls just visible beneath the thick fabric.

 

Anna swallowed against the sob that rose to her throat at the memory, and Kristoff turned her in his arms and pulled her into a tight embrace, resting his cheek against the top of her head.

 

The story had raced down the mountain even faster than they had, of bloodied brides kept in dungeons, of torture and depravity, of missing women, missing daughters and sisters, and a worrying number of unclaimed bones.

 

They bore Hans’s body away and buried it in an unmarked grave.

 

No one questioned when his widow chose not to pay her respects.

 

As soon as the weather warmed, just enough, they began to dismantle the locked rooms, setting their contents to the pyre they’d assembled.

 

Anna took the news only secondhand. There was some small part of her that distantly wished for closure, to set eyes on the manor house that had become a place of waking nightmares just one last time…

 

…but it was just a small part, one easily overruled by the weariness of the rest of her.

 

“The house _is_ yours, you know,” Kristoff said quietly. “They… asked me to remind you. That you inherited it when…”

 

His words trailed off, arms tightening a fraction around her, and Anna sighed and pressed closer to him.

 

“It’s all right for now,” she murmured. “I’ve been thinking about it. Thinking about maybe having them convert it to a school. Or a hospital. Something…” She paused, staring out to the forest. “…something to erase the memory of what it was,” she finished in a quiet voice. “What it saw.”

 

Kristoff nodded, laying a soft kiss against the crown of her head. “Pretty big house just for you, anyway.”

 

Anna pulled back far enough to look at him, eyes appraising. “…well,” she said after a moment, “you and Elsa would be there, too.”

 

Kristoff smiled at her and lightly tugged on one of her braids. “That sure I’m sticking around, huh?” he asked, very softly.

 

Anna returned his smile, eyes softening.

 

“Yeah,” she said, smile widening a fraction. “Pretty sure.”

 

She leaned up on tiptoe to press a gentle, lingering kiss to his lips, melting into him as his hand came round to cradle the back of her head, as he pulled her close and deepened the kiss.

 

“…you’re right,” Kristoff said, breaking the kiss and gently nudging her nose with his. “You’re right.”

 

“You sure?” Anna asked, lips still brushing over his. “You’re a free man now. You can go anywhere you want.”

 

She felt rather than saw Kristoff crook a smile at her. “I know,” he said, very quietly. “Exactly what I’m doing.”

 

There was a warm rush through her chest, and Anna kissed him quickly before pulling away, biting her lip and fisting her hands in her skirts. “In that case…” she said hesitantly, averting her gaze. “I, uh… I have something for you.”

 

She frowned, tilting her head. “Well… I mean, technically it’s _yours,_ but… well, I guess it’s not _yours-_ yours but it’s mostly yours… I guess. I think?”

 

She shrugged helplessly before reaching into her skirt pocket, extracting one of Kristoff’s handkerchiefs, neatly folded into a square, and holding it out to him, eyes soft and hesitant.

 

Kristoff eyed her in confusion as he gingerly took the handkerchief from her, turning it over in his hand. “…uh…” he began, raising an eyebrow. “…you’re… giving me one of my handkerchiefs?”

 

Anna’s lips spread into a slow, soft smile as she moved closer to him, laying her hand over the handkerchief. “Inside.”

 

Kristoff’s eyebrows were still raised in confusion as he carefully unfolded the handkerchief.

 

Anna rocked back on her heels a little, biting her lip. “It…” she started, wringing her hands together. “…I didn’t know what you’d done, not until Elsa told me… how you’d… how you’d gotten the message to her. And _neither_ of us knew about… about _that_ until the messenger started ranting after he’d gotten his horse back… I mean, _obviously_ he was going to get it back, Elsa just _borrowed_ it… but he was saying that the payment was nowhere near worth it, and… when we found out what it _was_ …”

 

Her eyes were damp, breath hitching tight in her throat as Kristoff touched shaky fingertips to the ring in his hand.

 

“…he was happy to take coins for his trouble instead,” Anna continued, blinking back tears even as a watery smile began to spread across her features, “so I… I traded him.”

 

She forced herself to hold steady as Kristoff looked to her then, eyes strangely inscrutable. “I…” she started, “…I thought you should have it. Just… just in case there ever came a time when… you wanted to give it to someone.”

 

Her heart turned over in her chest as she watched him close his hand around the ring and swallow hard.

 

“…do you want it now?” Kristoff asked, and his voice was rough, eyes closed.

 

Anna stared at him, heart rising to her throat. “…what?”

 

He opened his eyes, and she could see the faint shine of tears in them. “Anna,” he said, her name a breathless sigh on his lips as he took her hand and set the ring gently in her palm. “Anna, it’s yours. Whenever… if you ever want it. It’s yours. It’ll always be yours.”

 

Anna took a deep breath, raising her free hand to trail her fingertips lightly over his cheekbone. “…looks like you’re stuck with me, then,” she whispered, lips tilting into a teary smile.

 

“…looks that way, doesn’t it,” Kristoff said, eyes soft and bright.

 

He pressed his forehead to hers, arms coming tight around her even as he raised her off her feet and pulled her into a deep kiss that seemed to warm her, mend her, make her whole.

 

As she closed her eyes and pressed close to him, Anna remembered, distantly, to the time she had watched him from the windows, heart aching for him as she watched him with the servant girl, everything within her breaking apart as she imagined Kristoff taking her into her arms, their children scrambling to meet him.

 

A flash then, warm and bright, of their children in her arms, of Kristoff curling close to her in their bed at night, of his arms around her and holding her tight, of trips to the mountains and dizzing horse races, of trust, friendship, warmth, love.

 

Not a fairytale.

 

Something far better.

 

—-

 

Anna’s steps were light as she and Kristoff descended the mountain together, hand in hand.

 

Elsa stood waiting for them, gently petting Sven’s muzzle, and the horse cast adoring gazes between her and Anna.

 

“Are you ready, Anna?” Elsa asked, eyes soft.

 

Kristoff came to stand next to her and Sven, and Elsa reached out to gently touch his sleeve.

 

An understanding smile passed between them, and Anna felt her heart warm as she turned back to the forest, to the towering slope of the mountain behind her.

 

There were still scars laid into body, heart, and soul, she knew. There were things she could never unsee, never unlearn. Hans’s hands still lay burned into her, along her skin, deep within her mind.

 

Anna glanced back to Kristoff, to Elsa, and closed her eyes on a small smile.

 

Still there.

 

But healing.

 

_Stronger than you think you are._

 

Anna’s eyes were clear as she opened them, as she glanced to Elsa, exchanged a soft look with Kristoff.

 

“…yes,” Anna said, voice steady and firm. “I’m ready.”

 

**-FIN-**


End file.
